Death by Terran
by OneLastBird
Summary: This is what happens when a crooked space pirate confuses 'abduct' with 'adopt.'
1. Abducted

Peter could feel the wet grass slicking his fingers and soaking through the knees of his jeans. The cold fog made his hair stick to his ears and chilled the tears on his cheeks, but he didn't care. He struggled for breath between sobs.

A light fell on him, a warmth and a strong grip. He thought it was his Grandad and tried to shrug it off, but it grew stronger and he looked up to find a UFO hovering above him. A big, brightly lit, _terrifying_ UFO. He screamed as the world went insane around him, and then he suddenly found himself indoors.

The floor under him was metal. So were the walls and ceiling... strange, futuristic metal and doodads that looked disturbingly like the ship from Alien (which he had managed to watch despite being repeatedly told it 'wasn't fit for children.'). Peter really didn't want to think about that movie right now.

He tried to stand, but the room was shaking and pitching, and gravity suddenly decided to disappear. He floated there, reaching out to try and grab onto something... anything, when it came back with a vengeance. He hit the ground so hard he blacked out.

Peter woke up to a scaly, blue face inches from his nose. He screamed.

The creature shrieked back and rushed away from the boy.

"Careful now." There was another creature in the dark metal room, only this one was human... or at least he _looked_ human. He had a mohawk and tattoos and an unnaturally long and thin neck. Peter's Grandad would have a name for him that Peter would've gotten a mouthful of soap for repeating.

"I hear these planet-bound primitive types are savage," said the thin necked man. "Eat your face clean off."

"It doesn't look very dangerous," countered the blue creature in a strangely normal voice. There were twig things coming out of the back of his head...

Peter stared at them, tears clinging to his eyes, but too shocked to cry.

"What're you idiots doing down there!" This came from a hole in the ceiling that had a metal ladder leading into it. The voice had a scratchy tone that reminded Peter of the really grumpy old neighbour who was always shouting at him to get off his 'Damn Property!' A shadow passed over the hole and the voice was much closer. "Is the kid alive, or not?"

"It's fine, Yondu," said Pencil Neck.

"Then one of you keep an eye on 'em and the other one get your ass back up here. The damn Terrans hit the navigation array."

"How'd they manage that?" Pencil neck started up the hole, leaving the blue creature with Peter.

"Well I don't know... maybe they're a bit more advanced then you said they were." Whoever was up there, he did not sound impressed.

"Yeah... sorry about that..."

Their conversation drifted away.

Peter fidgeted uncomfortably and the blue Twig Monster bared its teeth. It pulled out what could only be a gun and pointed it at the boy. "Just try to eat my face off, tiny."

Peter put his hands up. "I won't," he squeaked. "I won't! I promise!"

The creature relaxed a little and took a seat on a nearby bench. He never took his aim off Peter.

* * *

It felt like hours later when they finally jolted to a stop. Pencil Neck's head popped down the hole and he said, "Take the Terran to its room. Yondu's orders."

The creature growled, but stood up and nudged Peter with his gun. "Get up."

Peter winced, and scrambled to do as he was told. He was pushed out the automatic hatch at the back of the room and into a large hanger filled with (totally cool) spaceships just like the one he exited. He had time to pause and utter a breathless, "Wow..." before he was shoved out of the open space into a still pretty wide hallway.

He froze in his tracks.

There was about a dozen more creatures standing there, staring at him. A few of them looked human, like Pencil Neck. The rest looked like extras from that cantina on Mos Easlie.

One of the human guys stepped forward. He was scruffy and bearded and normal. "This the Terran?"

"What do you think?" The blue creature (Bluey?) had a defensive edge to his voice.

Beard Guy grinned down at Peter. "I think it looks delicious. Never tasted Terran before."

Peter's heart jaw dropped. Was this guy serious?

"Piss off, Horuz," groaned the Bluey. "The Boss'll kill me."

Beard Guy (Horuz), attempted to put on a pleading face. "All I want is a taste. I'll leave it mostly intact."

"Hey, I wanna try it too!"

"Yeah!"

The others were piping up now. They crowded around Peter and his warden, arguing about the merits of eating him instead of following orders.

Peter was covered in cold sweat and breathing hard as panic settled over his eight year old body. Then something in him snapped.

He saw a gap in the legs surrounding him and he dove for it, sliding along the smooth floor. He was up again and running for dear life before most of the cannibals realized what was happening. He didn't know where he was going. How could he know where he was going? He just pushed himself forward, picking twists and turns on instinct.

His side was aching like he'd been stabbed, and he his legs burned. He slowed. Then he stopped. Slumped forward, hands on his knees, he fought to get air into his lungs.

Something grabbed his shoulder, and a voice he recognized as Pencil Neck's said, "How'd you get all the way out here?"

Peter screamed and struck out at the man, while at the same time throwing himself backwards. Before he could even try to muster up the strength to keep running, something wrapped around him from behind.

"Good catch Boss," said Pencil Neck.

Oh great... the _leader_ of the cannibalistic monsters had him.

His arms were pinned so he kicked wildly and threw his head back in an attempt to bash the leader's nose (if it had one). It didn't work.

"Stop!" yelled that gravelly voice. "Stop kicking and calm down!"

"No! I ain't lettin' you eat me! I _ain't!"_

Peter was dumped on on his face and then pulled back up by a painfully strong grip on his arm.

"Why would I wanna _eat_ you?" growled his captor.

Peter blinked his eyes open. It was another blue alien that had him, although this one had much more normal features... aside from the... thing that protruded from under his skin along the top of his head. His face was covered in stubble and scars, and his slightly bared teeth were crooked.

It was the eyes, though. He had eyes as unnaturally red as a Twizzler.

In Peter's experience (mostly from cartoons), red eyes always meant 'Evil Villain.' This guy honestly didn't look as scary as some of the others, but Peter couldn't breath, couldn't move. His eyes rolled back and he slumped against the alien's grip.

Yondu stared at the unconscious child that was now leaning against him. He knew the kid would be new to the whole 'you're not alone in the Galaxy' thing, but he wasn't expecting the raw terror he'd picked up before the boy passed out. He frowned at his first mate. "My face ain't _that_ scary, is it?"

The man, Kraglin, knew better then to try and answer. Instead he shrugged.

The pounding of boots on metal caused them to turn and find a bunch of the crew running towards them. Yondu instinctively shifted to put himself between the child and his men. He didn't like the vibes he was getting.

"Oh good... you caught it," said the blue fellow who'd been left in charged of the kid.

Yondu straightened his back. "Hess? Why was the Terran loose?" he asked sweetly. He put on his best friendly smile.

The entire horde of aliens cringed and moved away from their peer.

Hess wrung his hands and licked his lips. "Well... uh... it was these guys, Boss. They crowded us and let the little thing slip by me. It runs real fast."

The others were protesting, but their leader barked over them. _"Shut up!_ Now, explain to me why the _hell_ he thinks I wanna eat him."

Hess didn't waste a second. "That was Horuz."

Those red eyes turned on the bearded Xandarian. "Horuz?"

Rather then look ashamed or cowed, Horuz shot a sour look at Hess before grumbling, "I just wanted a _little_ taste."

"A taste?" One of Yondu's eyes twitched. "Of the _Terran?"_

"It's just cargo. Who cares if there's a bit missing?" Horuz shrugged. "And _they_ wanted some too." He waved his hand at his arguing peers.

Yondu cut in with, "It's a higher life-form! You don't eat higher life-forms!"

"I'd hardly call a Terran..."

He pulled back the edge of his coat to display his Yaka arrow. It was a threat that no one took lightly, and even Kraglin held his breath. "This _ain't_ a negotiable point. No one is eating the kid, and anyone who even _thinks_ about doing so again... well... I don't need to describe what'll happen. Do I?"

He got a chorus of, "No Boss," and, "Sorry Boss."

"Good. Now get back to work before I put a hole in every one of your _stupid, asshole, brains!"_

They jumped and ran in different directions; off to do whatever they did when they weren't terrorizing children.

Yondu shook himself and turned to Kraglin. "Was that guy always that crazy?"

"Pretty much."

He grunted and looked at his captive. He was pretty sure Terrans weren't supposed to have a grey skin-tone, and passing out like that was never good. The kid was in shock. Some species could die from such a thing. So how delicate was this one?

He picked the boy up and cradled him carefully, like it was something he did all the time. He was afraid, he realized, and old instincts were kicking in. This was the first time in ages that he feared for another being's life.

Of course that was only because if the boy died, he wouldn't get his reward. He _needed_ that reward. Still... he didn't like it.

"Uh... Yondu? You need help with that?"

Yondu snapped out of it. He was standing in a hallway, clinging an alien child to his chest like his life depended on it. Kraglin must've thought he'd gone insane.

But when he looked at the man, he found no judgement there, no suspicion of weakness, and only a smidgen of humour.

There was a reason Kraglin was his first mate.

"Naw," he said, not bothering to hide his gratitude. "I got this. You go make sure the boys don't do something stupid, like blow up my ship."

Kraglin chuckled and walked off.

Yondu went in the other direction towards the room he'd had set up in preparation for his 'guest.' He walked into the small quarters and laid the boy down as carefully as he'd picked him up. Maybe he'd been to rough before? Maybe this wasn't shock, but the result of damage? He took the bag off the boy's back and set it aside, then checked him over.

He was still breathing, so there was that. He had a purplish bruise over one of his eyes, but nothing was broken, or even swollen.

Yondu frowned. This kid was far too valuable. He had to be sure.

He went to the door and locked it. No one could see him do this. Not even Kraglin. They wouldn't understand.

Hesitantly, he walked back to the bed and crouched next to it. He reached out and brushed the hair from the boy's forehead before settling his palm there. His other hand he placed over the tiny creature's heart.

Yondu relaxed, his breathing evened out, he closed his eyes and allowed senses take over that most people didn't even know existed.

Anyone watching would see his crest glow with a brilliant red bioluminescence. His men thought this quirk of his appearance helped to control his arrow, and he encouraged that. No one needed to know what it was really for.

After a few seconds the light dimmed and he sighed, removed his hands from the child, straightened up, and backed away.

You wouldn't be able to tell by looking at him, but he was shaken. He didn't know what he was expecting, but this? This wasn't it.

One thing was for sure though; the boy took after his father.

Yondu snorted and rubbed his eyes. What was he _thinking?_ He didn't care. The kid was just a means to an end.

He was getting what he wanted. No. Matter. What.

Yondu turned his attention to the kid's bag. He sat on the edge of the bed, opened it up, and started digging.

The first things he found were a brightly coloured package and a bit of paper with an unfamiliar language written on it. He almost opened the package, but something stopped him. An impression of a woman... holding her hand out... dying.

He shuddered and set the items beside him.

The next thing he found was a primitive device with a long cord and a curved wire attached to it... and there was that woman again. It wasn't a weapon of any sort so he set it with the package.

There was more stuff inside: food in bright wrappers, more papers covered in that language, writing utensils with images of strange creatures on them, odds and ends. He found dozens of little cylinders that gave off a tiny pulse of energy when he touched them. They weren't alive. Some sort of battery?

He put them in a pile and pulled out the last thing. It was a little plastic bobble made to look like a chubby, bipedal creature in light blue clothes. It had a dopey smile, big brown eyes, and a ridiculously large tuft of orange hair sticking out of it's little plastic head.

Adorable.

Yondu cracked a grin. This would go nicely with his collection. He started to tuck it into his breast pocket when he felt the bed shift behind him.

A young voice yelled, "Give that back it's mine!"

He twisted and peered over his shoulder at the boy, who was kneeling, glaring at him, tiny hands curled into fists. He raised his eyebrows. Was the kid trying to intimidate him? Without breaking eye contact, he pushed the bobble the rest of the way into his pocket.

One of those tiny fists connected with his jaw.

It didn't hurt, but Yondu was stunned. He turned to face the kid fully and said, "Did you just _punch_ me?"

"Yeah," the kid said defiantly. "And I'll do it again if you don't give that back!" He was still afraid, but it was buried under a layer of righteous fury.

Yondu stared for a tense couple of seconds and then burst out laughing. He couldn't stop himself. There were tears in his eyes.

There were tears in the boy's eyes now too. "It ain't funny!" And he jumped on the big blue bully who was probably going to eat him, pounding on his head and shoulders.

He was easily shrugged off, sending the pile of batteries and pencils flying.

Yondu continued to chuckle and wiped his eyes. "You've got guts, Terran, but picking a straight fight with someone three times your size is not a smart move."

"My name ain't Terran..." The boy sniffed. He was starting to feel the fear again, and sadness; fresh, overwhelming sadness.

Yondu internally winced. This kid's emotions were jagged and all over the place, but Yondu was good at not letting on. He scrunched up half his face in confusion. "'Course it's not."

"Then why you keep calling me that?"

He snorted. "'Cause it's what you _are_, stupid."

"I ain't stupid! And I ain't no Terran!" the kid shouted. Then he settled against the wall, drew his knees up, and hugged them. "I'm a human. I'm from Earth." The tears were flowing freely now as he stared at nothing.

"Earth?" Yondu frowned. "You call your planet _Earth?_ That's a terrible name. Might as well say 'my planet's a big 'ole pile of dirt.' Also, I'm pretty sure it's mostly water."

The kid buried his face in his knees and mumbled something unintelligible.

"What was that?"

"If you're gonna eat me, just do it. I don't care anymore." He was lying, but he was also exhausted and emotionally drained. He wanted this to be a bad dream. He wanted his Mom to wake him up and tell him he was late for school... but he knew she wouldn't... never again.

Yondu's hand twitched. He wanted to reach out and put a hand on the kid's head, offer some sort of comfort. Instead he chuckled. "No one's gonna eat you kid. I put a stop to that." To himself he grumbled, _"Don't know how it got started in the first place..."_

"Don't believe you..." the boy said miserably.

Yondu smiled. This Terran still had some spunk left despite everything that was happening. As a test, he took the bobble out of his pocket pretended to examine it like some prized treasure. "So what is this thing?"

The boy tensed, his eyes following the alien's movements. "It's a Troll Doll."

_"Troll Doll..." _Yondu tested the strange words on his tongue. "It's real cute."

The boy's head went up. "It's _mine!" _The fight was back in him.

Yondu regarded him. "It means that much to you?"

"My Grandpa gave it to me..."

Yondu frowned. Talk of the kid's grandfather wasn't firing nearly as much emotion. In fact, all he was getting was misery. Clearly something had happened to the mother, and recently. He sighed and held the doll out to the kid. A sort of peace offering. "Yondu Udonta."

"Huh?" The boy looked warily from the doll, to the alien, and back.

Yondu rolled his eyes. "It's my name. You're supposed to give me yours. Don't they have manners on your... Earth?"

Gingerly the boy took the doll and held it to his chest. "Peter Quill," he said softly. He seemed to think about something for a moment and then extended his free hand.

Yondu tilted his head. The kid's hand was empty. He wasn't offering anything. So what was he doing? Reluctantly Yondu opened himself up again. His crest only flashed for a split second - barely long enough for the kid to notice - but he got it. This was a gesture of trust and respect.

These were things he demanded from all his men, and rarely got. It was why he had to threaten so often, lead by fear, show no weakness, and here this frightened Terran was giving it away willingly.

He took the hand in a strong grip and the kid shook it once, then pulled away. Peter wouldn't meet the alien's eyes. He focused all his attention on straightening his Troll's hair.

When he looked up, he was alone.


	2. Space Tales

Peter woke up with a jolt, surprised he'd been able to fall asleep at all. He checked his watch. It was 7:40am. He had been abducted by aliens for a little over 5 hours. His Mom had been gone a little bit longer then that.

He stared at his hands, but he didn't cry this time. He was thirsty.

He got up and cautiously checked the door. There was no handle or latch, so he tried pushing on it, and waving his arms in the air, but neither of these did anything. He moved on, wandering around the room poking at every strange thing he could find. It was small, though, so there wasn't that much. Just a simple dresser and a bed.

A button on the wall made a low bowl thing pop out. It wasn't shaped quite right to be a toilet, but there was a bit of water in the bottom and it was the right height.

So he wouldn't have to go on the floor if no one let him out. That was good to know.

He pressed the button again and the toilet went away. Only there weren't any other buttons in the room and none of the other stuff on the walls did anything, which meant there was no sink. Peter didn't know what upset him more: the thought of drinking alien toilet water, or the fact that he couldn't wash his hands.

He wasn't that thirsty yet, so he took his mind off it by putting all the things the blue alien had strewn all over his bed away in the dresser. He fit it all in one drawer, and he realized he didn't even have a change of clothes.

Would the aliens make him wear what he had on for the rest of his life? Would they at least let him clean it? Did they have a laundry machine?

All these stupid questions were making him panic, so he picked up his walkman and stuffed the headphones over his ears. He was about to press play, but he hesitated.

The last thing his Mom would ever say to him was, "Take my hand, Peter." And he couldn't do it, wouldn't do it. He had turned away, so afraid of his poor dying mother that he couldn't even look at her, let alone touch her. The tears finally welled up in his eyes. What was he even afraid of?

He couldn't listen to her music now.

Hell, he probably deserved to be here. Some sort of Divine retribution.

He wiped his eyes. That was stupid. No matter what he did, his Mom would be sad if stopped listening to her Awesome Mix. It would be like forcing himself to forget her.

He pressed play, and closed his eyes in relief as the up-beat tempo of 'O-o-h Child' washed over him. It felt like his Mom telling him everything was going to be okay.

He climbed into the bed and wrapped the covers around himself, content to lay there and listen.

* * *

Yondu waved a hand through the glowing holo-map, skimming from System to System, past Kree space, to the far edges of the Galaxy. He pointed at a specific star with a single planet. "Here," he said. "That's where the boy's Dad wants us to take him."

The curious crew members surrounding him were quick to protest, Horuz the loudest. "That's on the other side of the damn Universe! What the hell are we doing this fool job for Yondu? We're supposed to be taking what we want from who we want, not traipsing from nowhere to nowhere, reuniting kids with their Daddys!"

Yondu ignored him and took a seat in his captain's chair. Kraglin took that as his cue.

The First Mate snarled at the deserters. "Are you lot goin' against the Captain? You know how mutiny's dealt with amongst the Ravagers, don't 'cha?"

But Horuz wasn't letting go. "This isn't mutiny, Kraglin. All I'm saying is-"

"We do what the Captain says we do!" Kraglin leaned into his face and jabbed him in the chest. "And we go where the Captain says we go! Anything else is _mutiny!"_

Yondu smirked and gave a long trilling whistle. His arrow swept from it's holster and started to tumble about by his head. He continued to whistle a slow, mournful tune, and raised his hand so the weapon did elegant circles around it.

The Ravagers backed away from this display.

Kraglin pointed to the navigator. _"You!_ Set a course, make sure we got a stopover before we reach Kree space. The rest 'a you, get the _hell_ outa here!"

They didn't have to be told twice.

Once they were gone, Kraglin leaned on the back of Yondu's chair and watched as the arrow continued to dance. "You okay, Boss?"

The arrow was snatched up and placed back into it's holster. "'Course I am. What makes you think I ain't."

"Oh... nothin'." Kraglin shifted as the navigator went through his calculations and the stars passed by outside the windows. "It_ is_ awful out of the way, though."

Yondu said nothing.

"What were you doin' all the way out there, anyways?"

"Getting away from all you shit-heads."

Kraglin snickered. "Say... what about the kid?"

"What about 'em?" Yondu swivelled to face his First Mate. Thinking too much about the kid was putting him on edge.

Kraglin scratched at the side of his nose, trying to look unassuming. "Well, I don't know... he ain't got no food or water right? Someone'll have to bring him some if we want him to survive the trip."

"Shit..." Yondu leaned forward and massaged his temples. After the disturbingly literal bloodlust of his crew, he couldn't trust any of them alone with the boy, and though Kraglin was excellent at keeping things running and dealing with the finer details, the man had a massive mouth on him.

The kid would know what he was and where they were going in minutes, and Yondu still had no idea what he might be capable of if pushed.

Not that Kraglin knew what the specifics were. All Yondu told anyone was that this was a simple fetch and deliver: grab a kid from some backwards planet, bring him to his Daddy on some different backwards planet, earn a decent sum of money... only there _was_ no money. Beings like that didn't deal in physical currency, and what Yondu stood to gain was worth more to him then all the Units in the Galaxy.

He'd have to be the one to keep little Peter Quill alive.

Before he could say anything, his console lit up with a message from his engineer. He poked the floating screen. "What do you want, Trelzar?"

The face that came on screen was grizzled and half dominated by dark, blinking implants. The man's artificial eye swivelled around nervously. "I found something, Captain. Thought you might want to see it."

Yondu grunted and violently waved the screen away. He got to his feet and said, "I'll take care of the kid after I deal with that. Hold down the fort."

"You got it, Boss." Kraglin plopped down into his own chair and put up his feet.

The ship's engineer, Trelzar, had a table set up next to his Captain's personal ship and was organizing small bits of blasted devices when Yondu appeared next to him and said, "What is all of this?"

He jumped and caused his work to scatter all over.

Yondu watched patiently as he scrambled to reorganize everything. Trelzar was an odd, nervous fellow, but he was also loyal and resourceful, and so Yondu tended to cut him more slack then most of the crew would get.

"I'm so sorry, Captain," the engineer said softly. "You startled me, is all."

Yondu made a noise in the back of his throat and picked up one of the pieces. It was metal, white, slightly blackened. "These are what shot up my ship?"

"Yes, here." Trelzar handed him a narrow, pointed device made from the same white metal as the fragments, a bit of Terran writing on it. He was holding a small missile, he realized.

Trelzar said, "Found that wedged good into your left stabilizers. Didn't detonate for some reason, which is lucky. If it had, it woulda taken out the thrusters on that side. You came very close to death today."

Ignoring the chill that ran up his spine, Yondu said, "Well, I'm still alive. So why should I care about some little Terran missiles?"

"Because they're not supposed to have this level of technology," Trelzar answered gravely.

"This ain't that advanced."

"But it isn't the primitive black-powder they're said to wield either. There was this rumour about Terra a few decades ago..."

Yondu rolled his eyes, but Trelzar didn't notice and went on. "they say a Skrull crew was passing through this quadrant when they noticed an unusual amount of radiation in Terra's atmosphere. They must've figured the Terrans blew themselves up, so they flew in to see if there was anything valuable left behind." He looked around himself and back at his Captain. "Only the Terrans weren't gone, and the Skrulls were shot down, crashed in a desert, never heard from again. They say the Terrans tore them apart..."

With a snort, Yondu said, "That's it? You're trying to scare me with an old space tale?"

The engineer urgently shook his head. "I don't think it's a story Captain... While you were gone, I scanned the planet. There were high concentrations of radiation at certain spots. I believe they're using it for energy, and they had satellites in orbit. There was even debris on their moon."

"Okay, so they're not so planet-bound. So what?" Yondu shrugged. "Why should I give a shit?"

"Because you've brought a Terran into our midst," Trelzar hissed.

Yondu smirked and pocketed the missile. "The boy? He's harmless."

"He's also not the backwards primitive we were expecting."

"Just make sure my ship's fixed before we reach Kree space." He didn't have time for this. For some reason, people seemed to only look at non-spacefaring species in one of two ways: as harmless rock throwers, or as flesh rending monsters. Which was stupid.

Yondu had been around enough to know plenty of planet-bounds were perfectly civilized, and plenty more had highly creative ways of killing you. Hell, even rocks hurt.

It was an attitude he'd seen get people killed, but he didn't give enough shits to argue the point with his crew.

He headed to the mess, which was actually very clean. He insisted on it. His Ravagers wouldn't be much of a Pirate band if they all died of dysentery, would they?

He walked into the kitchens like he owned the place (because he did), and grabbed a bottle of water, as well as a tray. He filled it with some of the less disgusting leftovers in the preservation unit and went to play personal butler to his Terran prisoner.

The doors opened for him as he stepped into the room. The kid was covered in a bundle of blankets with his back to the door. Not a particularly smart move, but then again, most children didn't have to deal with the threat of assassins, or bounty hunters... or your own men turning on you.

He could tell the kid wasn't asleep so he gave a sharp whistle to get his attention.

Nothing. No reaction. And it wasn't that he was being ignored. The kid simply still didn't know he was there.

There was a strange noise in the room, like someone was chanting something down the hall. Whatever. He wasn't about to stop anyone from practising their weird religions.

He put the tray and water bottle down on the dresser and gave the blankets a shake. That got some attention.

As the kid struggled to disentangle himself from his cocoon, Yondu stood back and watched with his hands on his hips.

Peter emerged a dishevelled mess. His eyes were red and puffy (especially the bruised one), and he had those wire things tangled in his hair.

Yondu realized the chanting was coming from those wires. The soft, orange bits were covering the kid's ears, so it had to be some sort of listening device.

The kid pushed a button on the box the wires were attached to, and then removed the whole thing from his head. He proceeded to not say anything and stare anywhere but at his guest.

"Brought you food and water, boy." Yondu indicated the stuff on the dresser. He brought it into the room, but he wasn't going to spoon feed the kid.

Peter moved quickly once he spotted the water bottle. It was made of something that was't plastic or glass, and the cap was attached to it by a cord, but it still worked like every water bottle he'd ever used. He had the cap off and half the water down in seconds.

Yondu watched with slight amusement. If he was a nicer guy he might have felt bad, but no one was going to die from going half a day without water (unless they were amphibian or something).

When the water was gone, Peter caped the bottle and put it back on the dresser. He didn't move from that spot, aware the alien was staring at him. Cautiously he said, "It tasted funny..."

"Yeah? And?" Yondu asked, bemused. What did the kid expect? Filtered planetary spring water?

"You... you _poisoned_ it!" Peter turned around. His eyes were huge and he was dripping with suspicion and fear.

That earned a snort. "Why would I do that? And why would you _drink_ it if you thought it was poisoned?"

"I was thirsty!" yelled Peter. "And you still wanna eat me!"

So much for respect and trust. Of course, he couldn't blame the kid. Any trust placed in him was thoroughly misplaced. With a sigh, Yondu explained, "You don't poison something you're gonna eat. You'd end up eating the poison yourself."

The kid opened his mouth to argue, but then the point sank in. "Oh..." he said sheepishly. "Right..."

Yondu smirked. "Space travel 101, boy: the water _always_ tastes like it's filtered through a Chitauri's armpit.

"What's a..." Peter started, but cut himself off. The alien was being strangely friendly, but he didn't want to push it.

"Chitauri? Bad news. Better hope you never meet one." Yondu figured he'd done enough. The kid had food and water now, so he turned to leave.

Peter bit his lip. He wasn't ever going to find out anything if he didn't ask questions. That's what his Mom always said. "Wait!" he yelled as Yondu reached the door. "You really an alien?"

Yondu paused. "I ain't from your Terra if that's what you're asking."

"It's Earth. And how come you're speakin' English? ET didn't know no English, not till he learned it."

"I don't know what neither of those things are," Yondu said in answer. He opened the door by brushing his hand on it.

"Wait!"

This time Yondu turned around, a frown on his face. The kid was getting bold again.

Peter tried rephrasing his question. "Why can I understand you?"

"That's... complicated." Yondu said simply. He never really understood it himself. Something to do with bacteria sized robots and brain altering that made his skin crawl. "Just be glad your language is compatible."

His own had been completely undecipherable. When he first took to space, he couldn't talk to anyone until he learned Xandarian, which made him sound like his vocal chords were coated in sand.

"Speaking of language," he said. He closed the door, pulled the missile from his pocket, and held it out. "A bunch of these things almost destroyed my ship. You're gonna tell me what's written on it."

Only Peter had his hands up and was backing away. "That thing's _real? _I ain't touchin' it!"

"It's a dud. It's fine."

"Nuh-uh." The boy shook his head. "My Grandpa said if I ever find a bomb, or grenade, or... is that a _missile? _He said not to touch it, 'cause 'even if it looks old and broken, it can still blow your arms off.' You really shouldn't have that in your pocket, Mister."

Yondu was amused by the amount of concern he was sensing, but he was pretty sure Trelzar wouldn't have let him walk off with it if it was still dangerous. Still... the kid was afraid, and not just for himself. Yondu knew to cultivate that type of thing, so he angled the missile so the words were visible. "Fine, then. You can read it from there, can't ya?"

Peter wasn't exactly happy. He wanted the alien to put it down, but it was better then being forced to hold the thing. He didn't want to point out that the words were upside down so he tilted his head till he could read them, "It says... _Stark Industries."_

Yondu tried not to laugh as the kid almost did a hand stand instead of asking him to turn the weapon over. "And what is that?"

"It's um..." Peter straightened up and scratched his head. "It think it's this big weapon company? They're on the news a whole lot. They probably thought your spaceship was the Russians."

Yondu frowned at the missile feeling a little disappointed. He didn't know what a _Russian_ was, but he figured this all had to do with some sort of war. He had no interest in war. He started to tuck the weapon away in his coat when the boy's eyes bugged out.

"Don't put it back in your pocket!" Peter yelled. Then he noticed the weird look he was getting and lowered his head. "Or... um... maybe you should put it somewhere it can't get you if it blows up?"

Yondu didn't like this. What did the Terran care if he blew up? But the concern was genuine. This boy, Peter Quill, didn't wish any harm on him, despite being kidnapped, and scared out of his mind, and dragged across the Galaxy... despite what Yondu knew was going to happen when Quill met his father.

Sometimes being the only one around with these senses could be frustrating... if the kid could read him back, he'd know better.

Still, Yondu owed it to him to at least be a little nice.

He took a small isolation unit from his pocket. It was usually used to protect the more delicate artifacts he 'retrieved' from atmospheric and physical damage. It would be more then enough to contain the missile if it decided to explode. He placed the coin sized bit of metal against the weapon and depressed it. A little red light blinked on, and the missile was surrounded in pinkish light. "There. Happy now?"

"Um... I think so?" The boy watched his actions with a confused frown. "What did you do?"

"Contained it." He put in his pocket and didn't get any protests this time.

"Oh..." Peter shifted awkwardly. "Thanks."

Yondu's eye twitched. He was being thanked for not blowing himself up?

He turned to leave again. "I'll be back."

"Wait..."

He was halfway out the door, but he paused.

Peter took his chance to ask the question he really wanted answered. "Will... will I ever go home?"

"Probably not." Was Yondu's blunt answer. The truth was closer to,_ 'definitely never,'_ but honesty was never his strong suite. He shut the door and locked it.


	3. Ghosts and Questions

Apparently the kid decided he was free to ask all the questions he wanted, because the next time Yondu dropped off food, he found himself bombarded with them.

Peter was sitting on his bed, waiting. The second the door opened and the alien walked in he said, "Why'd you kidnap me?"

Yondu frowned. He wasn't about to answer that, so said nothing as he walked to the dresser to switch trays. His brow rose when he realized the old tray was untouched, but he put the new one down without comment.

Peter wasn't fazed by the silence. "You said you wouldn't let the other aliens eat me... so... you gonna do weird experiments on me?"

Yondu flinched. The word 'experiments' brought to mind a certain... _unpleasant_ raid on a Kree research facility, and startled him into answering. "No."

Peter sighed in relief. The alien could be lying, but he held onto the belief that he wasn't.

Experiments were the worst scenario after being eaten, but he had channeled plenty more from various movies and Twilight Zone episodes. "Are you gonna sell me to a zoo?"

"Nope," Yondu said with an air of nonchalance... like it was his idea to start answering. He turned to leave.

"You gonna make me into a slave?" Peter tried.

"Nope." He was almost to the door.

"You gonna... brainwash me to help you take over Earth?"

That one made Yondu's eye twitch. What would he want with a dirt planet covered in Terrans? "No..."

Peter got of the bed and rushed to get one more in. "You gonna hunt me for sport?"

"Thinking about it." He cut the kid off by shutting the door.

That was... not what he expected. The boy was growing bolder, any fear of him fading. Yondu actually found that thought kind of pleasant. He remembered wanting kids, once upon a time, but he had forgot about that pesky little thing where they were made of questions.

Next time, he'd be prepared.

Only he also forgot that trick kids had of saying the absolute _worst_ thing possible without realizing it. The next day he walked into the room and was immediately asked, "So what are you, anyways?"

Yondu froze, his eyes suddenly sharp, while his face remained carefully neutral. With all the wars going on, people knew not to ask each-other that question, especially not of a species you didn't recognize. You ran the risk of reminding someone they were a displaced refugee... or worse.

But the boy didn't know. He was asking out of innocent curiosity.

"Mr Udanta?"

He blinked. He'd been staring at the boy for a couple of seconds, and Quill was starting to look worried.

"You call me Yondu like a normal person," he growled stiffly. "And I'm a Centaurian." He didn't care. It didn't mean anything to most people anyways.

Peter surprised him by rolling his eyes. _"No_. I mean are you like... a pirate? Or a smuggler? Are you like Han Solo? 'Cause he wouldn't go stealing kids."

Yondu almost laughed. So that's what the kid meant? "Pirate and smuggler are pretty much on the nose." He didn't care what a 'Han Solo' was. "My crew's called the Ravagers."

"That sounds like a name for a metal band," Peter sneered. He then clapped his hands over his mouth as he realized he was insulting a pirate. So far this guy had done nothing but bring him disgusting alien 'food' and talk to him, but that didn't mean he knew who he was, or what he was capable of.

On Yondu's part, he had no idea what that statement was supposed to mean, but he could tell it was negative, and the kid's reaction after saying it was adorable. He chuckled and said, "I didn't pick it."

He frowned when he saw the tray from earlier; still untouched. "Why aren't you eating, boy?"

Peter considered the reasons. He wasn't hungry. He'd never see his Mom again. He'd probably never see the rest of his family again. A bunch of aliens wanted to eat him. He felt kinda sick already, and was scared the food might turn him inside out. He opted for a miserable, "That stuff's gross..."

"Did you try it?"

Peter's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't believe it... the alien was pulling that card? His Mom was supposed to say stuff like that, and his Grandpa, not some stupid blue guy who had him locked in a room on what may or may not be a giant space ship. He was actually getting really mad. "No! That brown stuff looks like rabbit poo, and the purple chunks? That ain't natural! And the rest is just leaves!"

Yondu was a little perplexed by the sudden burst of anger in the boy, but so far the 'being nice' tactic was working, so he put a hand on his chest and said, "Hey, I sympathize boy, but you're gonna have to get used to not knowing what half the shit you eat is, or you ain't gonna make it out here."

"I don't wanna make it out here!" Peter stood on his bed to get some extra height. His hands were balled into fists and tears were threatening in his eyes. "I wanna go _home!" _His voice cracked at the end.

Yondu was unmoved. "That ain't gonna happen," he said with a small smile on his face.

The boy was shaking now, wiping at his eyes, too furious to speak. He turned his back on Yondu and instead punched the wall; like _that_ would do anything.

Yondu shook his head and switched the trays. As long as Quill kept drinking the water (which he was) he could go right ahead and starve himself. Most species could go about a month without food, and the Terrans were pretty standard. That was more then enough time to get him to his father and be done with him.

The kid was full on sobbing as Yondu left, like this was the worst thing that ever happened to anyone. It made him feel a tiny bit bad, which pissed him off. He stopped. "You know what I really _hate_, is folks who say they want something and then whine about not getting it."

Peter stopped crying and glared, wiping at his dripping nose.

Those red eyes glared right back as Yondu said, "If you _really_ want something, you shut the hell up and you _take_ it."

He stepped out and gestured at the door violently. If it was capable of slamming, it would have, but as he walked down the hall, he started to laugh.

He essentially just ordered his prisoner to try and escape.

By the time he reached the mess to drop off the untouched tray and empty bottle, he was wiping tears from his eyes and getting worried looks from the crew. He left the food on a table. It was only a day old. Someone would eat it.

He grabbed a bottle of alcohol (some purple A'askvarii stuff with an unpronounceable name) and went to the bridge.

Kraglin was sitting in the Captain's chair, watching a video on one of the floating monitors. He chuckled as a busty Krylorian nurse declared that the hero's evil twin was in a coma.

Yondu whacked Kraglin upside the head and muttered, "Get outa my chair," as he walked past. He took a good swig of his liquor and stepped up to the window, staring out at the Universe that was a few feet away. Space could be breathtaking, with its stars and nebulae, and countless phenomena. From one window he could see more then he could even comprehend.

But that was part of the problem. Space was also exactly what it sounded like: empty, cold, and infinite. Searching for anything out there without a map or informant was less like finding a needle in a haystack and more like finding a single atom in a star; even more so when what you were looking for might not even exist.

And now, _finally_, he was so close...

He took another swig and sighed as the burning liquid soothed his throat. "When's our next stop?" he asked over his shoulder.

Kraglin, who had shuffled to his own chair and gone back to watching his video, looked up. "We're about two days out from Tau Bootis 5."

Yondu frowned. "Don't think I'm familiar with the place."

With a wave of the hand, his First Mate's screen turned into a 3D map, and a binary star orbited by an exceptionally large, red gas giant appeared. "It's right here," said Kraglin. He moved his hands to zoom in on a tiny little bit of space rock that was barely visible next to the behemoth of a planet.

Yondu moved into the map to get a closer look. By the numbers next to the asteroid, he could tell it was smaller then the average moon. It also had towers and buildings covering it's surface. A Space Station? And here he'd been hoping for a nice planet with good atmosphere.

Kraglin must have noticed the disappointment on his Captain's face, because he said, "We're too close to the warfront. This here's the only fuelling station Nav could find that wouldn't be covered in Nova Corps."

Yondu sank heavily into his seat. He was weary all of a sudden. The kid had hauled some shit to the surface that preferred to keep good and buried, and he was starting to get a good drunk on... bad idea. He could feel ghosts at his back, breathing down his neck, and he swore to himself he couldn't get rid of little Peter Quill fast enough.

* * *

In his room, Peter carefully sorted batteries. The dead ones were tossed on the floor in front of the door, and the good ones were placed in his bag. He was getting dangerously low on good ones, but that was okay.

The rest of his stuff was packed and ready to go.

When he was done, he looked over his handiwork. That big dumb alien thought he didn't want to go home bad enough, but next time Yondu walked through that door, he'd find out what it meant to mess with Star-Lord.


	4. Escape

_Several hours later..._

"...so I'm looking around for... for some sign of life, but there's nothing. No animals, no birds, nothing but... but trees. And even they ain't right. And then next thing I know, there ain't any trees either!" Yondu raised his cup of clear Xandarian whisky and missed his lips, brushing it against his cheek instead. He managed to get some in his mouth on his second try and swallowed with a grimace. "They all got _sucked_ into the ground like... like..."

"Moon worms?" offered Hess. He and his sister Ross, along with a handful of other crew members were sitting at a table in the mess, listening to their captain's stories. They'd heard this one before, but who doesn't love a good Space Tale? And Yondu had some of the best.

Ross, squeezed his shoulder and said, "Hush, he's getting to the good part." She was taller, paler, and slimmer then him, with sharper features and white spines neatly groomed along the top of her head.

With an approving grin, Yondu leaned forward like he was about to tell some great secret. "The ground starts shaking and it opens up and all I'm thinking is, 'Oh shit! Earthquake!' Only it ain't no earthquake! It's a mouth!" He slammed a hand on the table for dramatic effect. "And this big ol' tongue sticks out of it, and starts feeling around. The planet was alive! It was trying to eat me!"

"You're so full of shit, Yondu!" someone called from across the room.

The drunk Centaurian shot to his feet with surprising grace, considering he could barely see straight. "Who the hell said that!" he yelled, his voice cracking at the end. He glared at the group gathered by the kitchens, and at Horuz in particular. He could tell the gruff man wasn't the one who spoke up, but he was the one who kept the dissenters in line, or out of line depending on his mood.

None of them wanted to take the blame, so they stayed silent.

"You don't believe me, you... you keep it to your damn self!" he growled. "I'm the Captain! The boss! _Me!"_ He slapped his hands on his chest. "You gotta earn the right to talk to me like that, and you lot ain't earned shit!"

Everyone in the room tensed. No one knew the criteria Yondu followed when deciding to kill someone, as he seemed to do so completely at random. He might threaten an individual like Horuz into line for years without ever harming them, or he might off a new crew member within their first couple of days on board. And though there was no evidence that he was more likely to kill someone while drunk, no wanted to test that theory.

First rule of the Ravagers: don't get in a drunken brawl with the guy who can murder everyone in the room by whistling.

Ross, who was a little tipsy herself, bravely stepped into the Yondu's line of sight, smiled as prettily as her species could (which is not at all), and said, "How did you escape the Living Planet?"

Yondu blinked at her. How did he escape? _"Shit... _lost my spot." He rubbed at his temples and started to stumble away muttering "Screw you all... hope it shows up and eats every last one of ya..."

The Ravagers he left behind gave a collective sigh of relief.

* * *

The next day the very hung over Centaurian refused to leave the dark, quiet safety of his room, or even move from his warm bed. He was half awake and aware he should get up; he had Captain stuff to take care of. He just didn't care.

Eventually Kraglin's bright, orange photo blinked onto the display he kept next to his bed, trilling entirely too loud. He uttered an undignified moan and covered his head with a blanket to escape the noise and light.

After several minutes of it not letting up, he caved in and poked it.

"Boss? Boss? You ok?"

"Not so loud," Yondu rasped. He could barely get anything out and the effort set his throat on fire. He let out a few choice curses in his native language, which to Kraglin was nothing but unnatural hissing and clicking.

Kraglin frowned. "You gotta speak in Xandarian."

He got a growl and a middle finger for that.

"Ok, you're real hung over. I got that." He couldn't really complain. This hadn't happened in a very long time; not since Kraglin made First Mate. From what the boys had described, he shouldn't be this far gone. He must have gone back to his room last night and continued drinking on his own.

Kraglin sighed. "I can deal with the other stuff, but what do you want me to do about the Terran?"

"Terran's a little bitch," Yondu grumbled. He waved feebly at the screen, banishing it, and fell back into sweet, sweet oblivion.

On his end Kraglin stared at where the com-screen had been. "Crap." He had picked up on how important the kid was, to the point that Yondu wouldn't trust anyone else with his care. The Captain was being overly secretive about the job, which usually meant it was either extremely dangerous, or highly sensitive... or both. That was probably why he was treating the Terran so well.

Would letting the creature go without the essentials for a day cause any problems? The kid would survive, but what if his Daddy heard about it and got pissed? Someone who could pay enough for a job like this would be powerful. The Ravagers didn't want someone like that after their hides.

Kraglin decided he'd better play it safe and headed to the mess for food and water.

* * *

In his room, Peter finally caved and ate some of the alien food, which was only a _little_ bit as disgusting as he imagined it would be. Still he made a big deal out of it, pinching his nose and making faces as he choked the strange textures and flavours down.

As he cleared the tray he waited for the nausea to start, but he felt nothing. In fact, he felt better then he had in days. The constant ache in his midriff, as well as the fatigue were gone. He thought he might actually stand a chance of escaping.

He had no idea what he would do once he got out. Oh well... his Grandpa was always saying you had to take things one step at a time.

Finally the door opened, only it wasn't Yondu who entered. It was Pencil Neck the human-looking guy. Peter was worried for a second, but he realized it didn't matter which alien fell into his trap, as long as he got out that door.

And fall Pencil Neck did.

He didn't even look around as he stepped into the room and right onto the scattered batteries. The result was a bit like a cartoon: his feet were denied traction and sent in the air, and he slammed the tray of food into his own face as he landed on his back. Peter might have laughed if he wasn't so scared.

Instead he jumped over the prone Space Pirate and dashed out the door. Relief flooded him as he found the hallway deserted, but Pencil Neck was yelling curses at him and already getting up.

Peter ran down the dark, metal hallway looking for someplace... anyplace to hide. The ship (at least he thought it was a ship) was dark and industrial, with lots of gaps in the walls in ceiling. He eyed the grate above his head. There were lights coming from the edges of it, and it hung down, creating a gap that should be large enough for him to squeeze into. The walls in this corridor were slanted and had convenient horizontal ridges perfect for climbing. Channeling all of his tree climbing experience, Peter scrambled up the wall and reached out, managing to grab the edge of the grate. With a kick off from the wall, he pushed himself up into the strangely bright space.

His legs were still dangling, though, and try as he might, he couldn't pull himself the rest of the way. His bag was caught!

He could hear feet pounding towards him so he wriggled and pulled until, just as he was sure Pencil Neck was going to spot his feet, the bag ripped and he was able to slip sideways onto the grate.

He lay still, holding his breath as the pounding passed by underneath him. He was safe.

Peter didn't move for a long time as he waited for his heart to slow and his hands to stop shaking. More and more people were passing by, shouting about finding the Terran before Yondu wakes up and cursing someone named Kraglin.

He took his bag off and rolled onto his back. He was in a sort of trench in the ceiling, and above him ran dozens of thick, glowing, cables. Mesmerized, he reached out and touched them... probably not the best idea.

Luckily nothing happened. The cables were warm, and they hummed beneath his fingers. He lowered his hand and rested it on his stomach.

Now what?

More aliens ran by. There were too many of them on alert now for him to safely sneak around. He'd have to stay up here. At least there was enough room that he could crawl along the top of the grate, but he didn't know how far it went, and he'd need food and water before long.

The spaceships? He didn't know how to get to the hanger, or if he could fly one, but trying was better than letting himself get caught... or hiding out till he starved.

In the immortal words of Master Yoda, "Do or do not. There is no try."

And even that Yondu alien told him to take what he wanted. Well... he _wanted_ to go home.

He put his bag back on and started his slow, tedious crawl in what he hoped was the right direction.


	5. Peter Quill the Plucky Terran

It took a couple of hours, a few wrong turns, several cramps, and bruised knees, but Peter finally found the hangar. His sneaking space was coming to an end, the grate stopping shot of the large open room and the cables turning sharply into the ceiling. He crept as far as he could and cautiously stuck his head out.

There was no one around. Everyone was looking for him back in the living quarters. They probably didn't think he could make it this far undetected.

Carefully he swung his legs out and lowered himself as far as he could before dropping down. He landed on his feet and crept forward into the hangar, his head whipping back and forth in search of any aliens that might be lurking around. Almost instantly his caution was abandoned.

This place was huge, with dozens of the large, brightly painted spaceships. The shape of them made Peter think a little bit of moths. They were sleek and... and... _awesome; _couldn't be more different from their dark surroundings.

Now how did he get into one?

He ducked under the wing of the nearest ship and touched its side with the same respect he would touch a horse back home.

It was cool against his fingers, and almost frictionless. It was also locked into some kind of mooring from underneath, and no matter the bits he pushed and pulled, he couldn't get it to open.

There was a hollow *clunk* from nearby that was followed by a cry of, "Dammit! Get back here!"

The rattling got closer, so Peter ducked behind the ship just as a metal canister covered in alien writing rolled past. A good thing too... as it was followed by a large man in an old leather jacket.

Peter dared to peek from his hiding spot to see who the figure was. He didn't recognize this alien from the other day. From this angle, it didn't look like an alien at all; just a big, greasy guy with long hair and bad skin. Then he picked up his canister, and turned around.

Peter had to clasp a hand over his mouth to keep himself from crying out. Half the guy's face was metal, with a bulbous robot eye swivelling creepily around in its socket.

The guy, now forever nicknamed Eyegore, paused as though he heard Peter's aborted scream.

Peter held his breath.

After a beat, Eyegore shook himself and walked back to whatever it was he'd been doing, unaware of the child that was now stalking him.

Peter figured he was some sort of mechanic. The boy knew what a work station was, and though all of those tools were strange to him, they still looked like tools.

More importantly, the ship Eyegore was working on was opened up at the back!

Now Peter just had to figure out how to sneak around the creepy cyborg and get inside. He thought of throwing one of his batteries to distract Eyegore, but while he was trying to dig one from his bag without making too much noise, the problem solved itself in the form of Pencil Neck.

Peter barely got out of sight before the thin man and some of his buddies stormed through the hangar.

"I'm almost done," said Eyegore. His voice was surprisingly soft and tinged with fear.

Pencil Neck stopped and looked from the ship back to the mechanic. "You seen the Terran down here."

"I don't even know what it looks like. Is it _loose?"_ He shifted nervously and Peter couldn't help a small smile. That big, freaky guy was scared of _him?_

The scaly blue guy, Hess, eagerly said, "Kraglin let it out."

"I didn't _let_ it out," Pencil Neck snarled at the little blue guy. He turned back to Eyegore. "It looks like a Xandarian kid. I just need to know if it came down here."

"No. I'm sorry. It's only been me." Eyegore watched his compatriots moan and added, "I'm surprised Yondu hasn't tracked it down yet."

Pencil Neck stiffened. "Yondu don't know. And he ain't gonna know till I find it."

"That's a terrible idea," said Eyegore. He shook his head at the others and tried to go back to his work. "What if it gets stuck somewhere and starves, or crawls into a power core?"

"Yondu'll kill us," Hess supplied. The other aliens made noises of agreement.

All except the other scaly blue creature in the group (Bluey 2?). This one was taller and manlier, and had white... hair-like stuff on top of its head. He said, "It's alright. He'll only kill Kraglin."

The aliens agreed with this even more. Pencil Neck went pale and weakly said, "You all need to shut up."

Eyegore sighed and put down his tools down. "Why would he do that?"

"He's been real weird about this kid," Pencil Neck said gravely. "I wasn't even supposed to go in the room."

Eyegore hummed. "He won't kill anyone... probably... he might if you try to hide this from him... which you have..." He sighed again. "Come on then. Let's go tell him."

_"What?_ Wait!" Pencil Neck tried and failed to wrench his arm out of the cyborg's guiding grasp.

As the group moved away Eyegore said, "I don't _think_ he'll kill his First Mate."

"He killed the last one," said Bluey 2 with a little too much glee.

"Yes, but that man was terrible."

The rest of their conversation faded as they went into the hall.

Peter nearly whooped with joy once he was alone. They left the Spaceship wide open.

* * *

The forest floor was soft with ferns and moss, the air heavy with the odour of leaves and bracken and the smoke from a nearby fire; a good place to lay and take in the night. He could faintly hear his people singing and dancing, but he was far enough away that he could also hear the trees in the wind, and the movements of animals going about their rituals.

He felt it all: plants, trees, animals, people. A delicate pulse of life and death.

Above him, through a break in the canopy, he could see the stars and the twin moons. They were as they had been for millions of years; cycles unbroken by time.

It was familiar... comforting...

Yondu jolted and it all fell away. The forest was replaced with claustrophobic metal, the distant singing with the trill of a com-screen, and his peace with a throbbing pain behind his eyes. For a moment he could only lay there, overwhelmed by the loss.

He took a deep breath and forced it violently from his lungs before sitting up and punching the com. "I was _having_ a good _dream, dammit!"_

Kraglin was on the other end, his face drawn and pale. "Oh shit," he said. "Um... I'll come back later."

Come back? Yondu stretched his senses beyond his room, and sure enough, Kraglin, Trelzar, and a bunch of others were all standing outside his door. They were giving off an air of excitement and dread that worried him. _"No,"_ he growled. "You woke me up, you deal with it." He looked down at himself. He was in nothing but his underwear. "I'm getting some pants on. Your little pity party better be gone by the time I open that door." He waved the screen away.

He stood and got a clean pair of pants from his drawers, taking his time as he put them on. He could feel Kraglin's fear go up as everyone else ditched him.

Yondu snorted as he pulled on a black undershirt. What did the Xandarian do now?

Finally he opened the door to Kraglin, who was standing at his full hight and trying not to look scared for his life. Never mind that he still had food in his hair and on his clothes. He took in Yondu's hunched shoulders and wide, harried eyes, and gulped.

"Well?" said Yondu. His voice was calm despite his appearance.

"Kid's loose," Kraglin answered stiffly.

Yondu blinked. "Come again?"

"The Terran." He paused to swallow. His throat was suddenly very dry. "He got loose."

Yondu, instead of flying into a rage as expected, relaxed. "He did? How the hell'd he do that?"

Looking anywhere but at his Captain, Kraglin said, "Well... uh... I figured since you were... out of it, someone should give the kid food and water, only there were these things all over the floor in his room." He dug in his pickets, pulled out one of the dead batteries, and handed it to Yondu. "I sorta... slipped on 'em and that damn Terran just... ran out the door."

Yondu stared at the little energy cell as he turned it over in his hand.

When he didn't say anything, Kraglin continued. "I didn't want to bother you 'bout it, so I tried to find him. Got half the crew on it even, but... It's like he's vanished."

Despite how miserable he felt, Yondu chuckled. So the kid did it. "Alright. I got this." His eyes flicked to his First Mate, who was now flooding with relief. He had half a mind to chew the man out, but this was mostly his fault, and Kraglin was only trying to help, like always. Instead he said, "Get yourself cleaned up." He closed the door in the man's face and retreated back into his room.

It bothered him sometimes how his crew acted like he went around murdering everyone every time they screwed up. If he did that, he wouldn't have anyone left.

He went into his personal bathroom and chugged a glass of water with a headache pill.

His hangover fading, he sank into one of his chairs and returned to staring at the battery. He should be pissed about this whole situation, but it was mixed with a tinge of pride. The trap Quill had set was simple, sure, but it worked, and somehow he had managed to give half a crew of pirates the slip in a completely unfamiliar environment. This was a _child; _he wasn't even an adolescent yet.

The thing that got Yondu most though, was that he _listened_. He took what Yondu said to heart and didn't wast any time.

The Centaurian was a very tiny bit tempted to let him get away, but that wasn't possible. That dream... even if he could never have that back, at least he'd found a chance to find a piece of it, and as much as he liked the kid, sentiment had torn him down too many times already.

He could do this.

He put on a proper shirt and his jacket and headed out into the halls.

The crew knew he could track like no one else, but he took care that they didn't know how he did it. He had learned that lesson long ago and bore the scars to prove it.

They also didn't know that his abilities were all but crippled out here. Sure, he could get a bead on folks, but the higher the life-form, the harder it got. On a ship with no natural flora or fauna and nothing but advanced, space-faring people, it was the equivalent of being partially blind.

So it was strange that he could sense the kid as well as he could; almost like he was following a beacon. Then again, being in the father's presence had nearly overwhelmed his senses. More evidence that Peter Quill was much more then he appeared to be.

Yondu found himself in the hangar, standing in front of his own ship.

No. Freaking. _Way_...

Quill was in there! Not only did he escape his room, but he actually managed to board a getaway vehicle completely undetected? Yondu was pretty sure _none_ of his boys could pull that off.

Trelzar was puttering nearby, so he loudly said, "You see the Terran down here?"

The mechanic jumped and looked up. "Kraglin asked the same thing." At Yondu's blank stare, he added, "Ah... no. No Terrans here, Captain."

Yondu grinned. "Good. You'll keep an eye out, right?"

"But Yondu..."

He put a finger to his lips and Trelzar, taking the hint, stopped talking.

Yondu pointed two fingers at his eyes, pointed a thumb at his ship, and then made a fist with the same hand.

Trelzar's brow rose in surprise, but he raised his voice and said, "Yes. Of course I will, but I doubt he'll get all the way down here."

Yondu could feel relief from the boy. He nodded to his mechanic and clomped away, then silently doubled around and stepped through the hatch. He gestured for Trelzar to close it behind him, and once he was sure it was locked, he stalked through his ship towards the cockpit where he sensed the frustrated intruder.

He climbed partway up the port, just enough that he could peek over the edge into the room. There was Quill, back turned as he tried to pull on the control levers of Yondu's chair.

Yondu winced as one of his bobbles fell off the console, but it bounced unharmed across the floor so he let it slide. He slowly climbed the rest of the way without making a sound, his eyes never leaving the kid as he stood straight.

Oblivious little Quill continued his tugging as he muttered,_ "C'mon... stupid thing. Move already."_

With a straight face, Yondu said, "It's locked out 'cause it's in dock."

It was hard work not to laugh when Quill whipped around, his mouth open in comic horror.

Yondu went on as if he didn't just scare the shit out of a kid. "A good thing too as you woulda rammed _my_ ship through a wall... into space... with the hatch open..." He frowned while his eyes sparked with amusement. "You didn't think this through. Did you?"

Quill did that thing again where he turned his fear into defiance. He stood his ground, his feet wide set and his face scrunched into an adorable scowl. "It ain't my fault I never flown a spaceship before! I woulda figured it out!"

And the chilly creep of the heebie-jeebies invaded Yondu's veins. The Centaurian once said those words... those _exact_ words in broken Xandarian a lifetime ago. The boy in front of him was no longer Peter Quill the Pucky Terran. He was a ghost from back when there were shits to give and a shred of hope to cling to; a version of himself he had long given up for dead.

This wasn't funny anymore.


	6. The Nature of the Cosmos

Yondu didn't find himself speechless very often, but at that moment he couldn't figure out what to say or how to react. Mostly he wanted to run away, which was out of the question. Instead he stepped forward, causing Quill to back up and give him a wide birth. Yondu settled into his seat and pressed the com, calling up the navigator. "I need you to stop the Galleon. I'm taking my ship out for a test flight."

Quill came closer to him and he could sense the boy's curiosity.

The man who appeared on the screen said, "But... we've almost reached our..."

"Just do it, Nav."

"Of course, Captain." The navigator ended the call.

While this was going on, Peter remembered that he was supposed to be escaping and started inching towards the port.

"Don't bother," Yondu said without turning. Quill froze. "It's locked up tight, and you ain't gonna wanna miss this." He smiled as he saw Trelzar out in the hangar waving his arms around like a lunatic. Yondu waved back.

Trelzar dropped his arms and started pressing buttons on the band on his arm. A com-screen appeared in front of him, and a second one popped up next to Yondu, who tried to wave it away. As he watched, Trelzar started pressing buttons again, and the call on Yondu's end accepted itself.

"The Zatoan isn't Space-worthy yet," said the frantic mechanic.

Yondu ignored Quill's whispered,_ "Cool..."_

He said, "Is that by your standards, or everyone else's?"

Trelzar's eyes shifted to the side and back to his Captain. "By my standards..."

With a smirk, Yondu ended the call. He buckled his harness and was about to activate the launch sequence when he remembered Quill was still standing there. He pointed to one of the forward seats and said, "You strap yourself in too, boy."

Peter stared at him. "Um..."

"Better do it quick or you're gonna kiss that windshield when we pitch down."

He took the hint and ran up to the front, picking the left chair. He was way too small, and even with his bag between him and the back rest, his knees couldn't make it past the seat and his legs were stuck out straight. At least the buckle was easy. It looked like the two pieces of metal were so high they would connect in front of his face, but once he snapped them together, the straps adjusted themselves so that the buckle was against his chest and he was pressed snuggly into the chair.

When he finished, the ship did exactly what Yondu said it would; it pitched down as the floor tilted, opening up a dark hole beneath it. He clung to the arm rest and held on for dear life as the moorings gently slid the ship into the hole. He looked back and could just see the floor close up again.

The lights in the cockpit came on, as did various lights across the ship. Peter noticed that Yondu wasn't smiling like he had been when he spoke to Eyegore. When he first caught Peter in here, he looked like he was secretly laughing, but then in that strange moment before he sat down and started all this he seemed... sad. He was like that again now.

His expression reminded Peter of his Grandpa the night his Mom... that night. _God_... that was only a few days ago.

There was a startling _*whoosh*_ and then an eerie nothingness as something in front of them opened up. He got an impression of stars before the ship shot downward into what looked like an endless abyss, but he shut his eyes as he was met with the terrible sensation that they were going to fall forever.

Only his stomach didn't do that butterflies thing it did when you go down a big hill. It didn't feel like they were going anywhere.

He heard clicking behind him, and then moving. Yondu was coming towards him, and he didn't want to seem like a scaredy cat so he forced himself to open his eyes.

Yondu, on his part, was concerned. He remembered what this was like. He could perfectly recall the horror he felt the first time he saw the stars from outside his planet's atmosphere. The kid had to face this, but the point wasn't to break him; it was to make him understand.

As he reached the chair, he heard a hitch in Quill's breath and froze. He didn't know what he was sensing from the boy, but it was almost as suffocating as the sight of the endless _everything_ surrounding them. He watched as Quill unbuckled himself, climbed out of his chair, walked up to the window, and pressed his hands against it. There were tears pouring from his eyes that he half-heartedly swiped at with his sleeve.

Yondu couldn't stand it anymore, so he spoke up. "It ain't a hop, skip, and a jump back to your Terra, boy. Even if you figured out how to fly this ship, if you don't know how to navigate you'd get lost out here forever."

He barely heard the boy's small, shaking voice._ "You said..."_

"I know what I said," he cut in bitterly. "And goodie for you making it this far, but sometimes getting what you want ain't possible, no matter how hard you try. This here's one of those times."

Quill responded in the weirdest way possible. He smiled and said, "Star-Lord."

Yondu blinked. The kid was filled with grief, but at the same time he was a confusing bundle of joy and fear and sadness and... and longing? "What the hell?"

His little hands shook as he said, "My Mom... that's what she calls me: her Star-Lord. We... we were always making up stories where we explored the Universe together like... like Flash Gordon. I was the hero, and now... it's for _real_..." He looked at Yondu with those wet, emotion filled eyes and that strange smile.

The Centaurian masked his shudder by snorting and crossing his arms. "I ain't calling you that. There's enough idiots with 'Star' in their name already."

Quill's smile vanished and he went back to staring out the window. Yondu could practically taste the disappointment, but he wasn't here to cater to anyone's whims but his own.

This was not going how he intended. The kid was supposed to... to _understand_, like Yondu did, how desolate the universe was; how it would never give you anything and would take whatever it could if you let it. He was trying to teach Quill a lesson about the indifferent nature of the Cosmos, and here the kid was falling in love with the damn place.

At least one good thing came of it: Quill no longer resembled his past self in any way at all. He would never have this reaction to space.

Quill snapped him out of his thoughts by saying, "That one looks real close." He was pointing at something, his finger pushed against the window.

Yondu tilted his head so he could see what it was and spotted a large star about a parsec away away. "Must be Tau Bootis."

He activated the navigational overlay on the windshield and poked the star. A large hologram of it appeared in the middle of the cockpit, its gas giant in close orbit. "Yeah, that's it alright."

"Wow!" The kid was in awe of this display until he noticed the tiny Tau Bootis 5 floating not far from the planet. He cocked his head and said, "That's a funny looking moon."

Yondu smirked. "It ain't no moon. That's a Space Station."

With a loud gasp, Quill yelled,_ "No way!_ I can't believe you just _said_ that!"

_"Why?!"_ Yondu's eyes went wide as he seriously started doubting the kid's sanity. That was way too much joy over such a simple statement.

"Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope," Quill answered quickly as though that explained everything. "Obi Wan says something almost exactly like that." He turned to Yondu, his eyes big and pleading. "Can we go there?"

The question startled a laugh out of Yondu. "That's where _I'm_ headed," he said. "There ain't no way _you're_ going."

"Why not?" he whined.

"Because you're probably gonna try to escape again." Yondu flicked his wrist and the hologram disappeared. The kid came too close with his first attempt. He wasn't getting a second.

"Nuh uh!" Quill followed him to his seat. "I promise I won't if you take me. I'll pinkie swear it." He made a fist with his right hand and stuck his smallest finger out.

"What does swearing on your... _never mind." _Yondu sat down and pointed a finger in Quill's face. "You ain't escaping again 'cause if you do, I might just reconsider letting my boys eat you."

Quill glared at him. "No you won't," he said firmly. He believed it, too.

Yondu didn't know if he was bothered that a kid called his bluff, or touched that at least _someone_ didn't expect him to murder them. Too bad this boy was the last person who should be putting any faith in him. "Go sit down and buckle up." He didn't give Quill a chance to object. Pressing a button on his console, he barked, "I'm coming back in."

He swung the Zatoan around until the Ravager Galleon was in sight, and got another gasp from Quill.

"That's the ship we were on?" said Peter. It was huge, and it looked to him like a giant space-gun from a movie. It was covered with dark metal and bright lights and had to be as big as a city. To himself he muttered,_ "No wonder I got lost..."_

Yondu heard that and chuckled, then stopped and internally berated himself. He had to quit _liking_ the boy so damn much. Yes, he used to want kids. That was no excuse to get attached to the first one he spent any time with in so many years; especially _this_ one.

He flew under the Galleon, started the docking sequence, and relaxed as the computer took over. His ship slowly backed towards its moorings until it was close enough that they clamped onto it and pulled it inside. The hatch closed and Yondu braced himself as the Galleon's gravity took over he was suddenly facing down.

Quill cried, "Ow!" when his harness unexpectedly bit into his shoulders.

"Oh yeah, watch out for that," said Yondu.

The boy shifted and shot the him a pouty glare.

A few seconds later the Zatoan was pulled up into the hangar and docked once more. Yondu got up, ready to leave, but he frowned when Quill stayed in his seat with his arms crossed across the buckles.

"You coming?"

"You're just gonna lock be in that room again," he accused.

Yondu put his hands on his hips and said, "Yep, and it ain't gonna be hard to cut you outa there and carry you. That what you want?"

With a sigh, Quill said, "No..."

* * *

Yondu ignored the stares as he marched through the halls of the ship, he boy's arm in his firm grip. None of his men said anything and none of them got in his way, so he didn't care.

The mix of fear and curiosity he could sense from them was faint compared to the sharp frustration of Quill. The kid was was scared of them too, and rightfully so, but he seemed able to manage it. He kept his eyes down, pointedly not staring.

As they walked, Yondu noticed how grimy the cloth under his hand was and how much the Quill was starting to stink. Apparently the Terrans hadn't invented filth repellant clothes yet. He absently thought he should get some for the boy at the station. He should probably let him use a shower too, before he got sick.

They arrived at the room, and Yondu was pleased to find any mess that had been made during the grand escape was cleaned up. The batteries were gone as well.

Speaking of which, as Quill stepped dejectedly into the room, Yondu grabbed the bag on his back and gave it a tug. "This comes off, boy."

"What? _No!" _Quill grabbed the straps at his shoulders. He would fight for it, Yondu could tell.

The Centaurian pulled out the small knife he kept in his belt for emergencies and slipped the the blade under the thin strip of black fabric. "You take it off or I cut it off."

"But you let me keep it before!" The boy's eyes were misting.

"And you used the shit in it to trip my First Mate." Yondu frowned as he crushed a tiny flair of pride. "He's gonna be pussyfooting around me for days, and who know's what else _you'll_ get up to if I let you keep it." He raised the knife, putting pressure on the strap.

"Ok! Ok!" Quill frantically slipped his arms free and stumbled away. Once he got his balance he straightened and turned. He had gotten his emotions under control; there were no more tears in his eyes. "But you practically _told_ me to do it!"

That earned a smirk from Yondu as he closed the door.

* * *

At the edge of the Magellanic Cloud a black, sleek Kree warship emerged from a cloud of ionized gas and quietly crossed the border into the Galaxy proper.

In the control chamber a man with dark blue skin and stark white hair sat in his thrown-like chair, his cheek resting agains his hand. "Have we passed undetected?" he asked.

One of his pilots shifted the red navigation sphere in her hands and said, "Yes Captain. We are now in Xandarian space."

The Captain sighed and rubbed at his eyes, careful not to smudge his black warpaint. He took a deep breath and stood, and the tone he spoke in was suddenly powerful and authoritative. "I know this looks like a suicide mission, but we are _Kree! _We fight today so that our children and their children may prosper. If we succeed, we will be hailed as heroes, and if we die... it will have been an honour to serve with you all." He paused for a breath and gravely said, "Set a course for Tau Bootis."


	7. Walkman

When he got back to his quarters, Yondu immediately went through the Terran's bag and dug out the Troll Doll. He was being nice, letting the kid keep it, but not anymore. Now it had a place of honour on his dresser with his potted plants and the dozen or so other bobbles he didn't have room for on his ship.

Out of curiosity, he also pulled out the listening device, cautiously put the soft orange things over his ears the way he'd seen the kid do, and started pressing buttons. The machine made various whirring noises, and at one point he thought he broke it when part of it popped open, but he was able close it back up again. No matter what he did, he couldn't make it chant like it did for Quill. Maybe it was broken?

He took the wires off his head and tucked the whole thing inside his jacket. Stations like Tau Bootis 5 always had junkers around that could fix primitive tech like it was nothing.

He left the bag in a corner and headed out. They'd be arriving soon.

When he stepped onto the bridge, Kraglin jumped to his feet and stood at attention like this was suddenly the military or something.

"Obfonteri?" Yondu said with a frown. "What the hell'r you doing?"

"Uh... nothing..." He relaxed and shifted awkwardly. "Heard you found the Terran?"

Yondu took a seat in the Captain's chair. "Yeah. He was on my Zatoan, trying to take off. If Trelzar didn't have all those safety measures in place, he probably woulda made a nice big hole in the side of the Galleon."

"Holy hell..." Kraglin paled significantly and sank into his own seat. Between underestimating the Terrans fire power during his scouting mission and this new blunder, he wouldn't be surprised if the next time he went to sleep, he never woke up.

Yondu sneered at him. "Will you _stop?_ I'm more impressed with the boy then I'm pissed at you. No normal kid coulda pulled that shit off."

If there was one good thing about Kraglin, it was that he knew how to follow orders. All the tension was released from his shoulders as he sighed in relief. He hadn't been First Mate for very long and had no idea why Yondu would choose a young, barely educated Colony boy like him for such an important role, but he was noticing that his Captain had a weird ability to see through people. He was starting to trust that there was a reason for the decision, and that Yondu really wasn't going to kill him.

The Captain gave him a strange look - like he was trying not to smile - and nodded towards the approaching station. There were other large ships orbiting around, fuel lines tethering them to the glorified hunk of metal and rock. "They give us clearance?"

"Oh... yeah. Like an hour ago."

Yondu frowned. "What I don't understand is why a fuel refinery this close to the front ain't better defended."

Straightening his back proudly, Kraglin said, "It's a pretty small operation, not too important to the supply lines, so neither side gives much of a shit about it. Besides, Xandarian military's spread too thin as it is."

"Suppose it sees a lot of our kind, then?"

He grinned. "Hell yeah. Thieves, smugglers, mercs... just about every kind a outlaw there is."

Yondu made a soft hum in his throat. His skin was starting to crawl and as he stared at the sprawling patchwork of hewn stone, metal factories, towers and lights, he swore he felt someone staring back at him. "Best we keep on our toes," he said. "We ain't even landed yet and this place is already giving me the heebie-jeebies."

Kraglin's eyes widened at that. "Like on Knowhere?" He'd only just joined the Ravagers when _that_ fiasco went down, and it was still the most brain-meltingly weird experience of his life.

"I told you not to mention that hell-pit," growled Yondu.

Bowing his head and shifting as far from the Centaurian as he could go without getting out of his chair, Kraglin said, "Sorry Captain..."

Yondu rolled his eyes and muttered, _"Typical."_

* * *

It wasn't long before the Galleon was in its approved orbit and the Ravagers could disembark, but by that time Yondu was reluctant to go with them. That creepy sensation of being watched was only getting stronger and his crest was starting to itch.

This was bad.

He'd experienced this a few times on his travels, usually right before the Universe threw some form of madness at him; living planets, Asgardian drinking parties, giant severed heads full of _wrong_... He figured it was his senses picking up stuff he wasn't meant to process, and he had learned to trust this odd warning system.

He'd have to ignore it right now, though. They were running on fumes, so there was no way they could go back and find a not crazy station to fuel up at. All he could do was hope whatever he was picking up wasn't interested him and his little band of outlaws.

The flight down in the Zatoan was short and he left his ship tense, and ready for a fight. Only nothing happened.

He went about bartering for fuel and running some errands without incident. There was nothing but workers (mostly refugees), and various travellers shuffling about the hot, dusty streets, but he couldn't relax. He wouldn't feel comfortable again until he was well away from this place.

He sent Kraglin off to enjoy the bars and ordered some clothes for the kid. finally, eager to get back to the Galleon, he started asking around for a reputable junker.

Soon he ducked unto a small, claustrophobic shop so thick with boxes and wires and sharp bits of metal that he could barely move without risking Tetanus. "Hello?" There was no answer so he briefly opened up his senses, his crest flashing in the gloom. There was definitely someone here, so he stepped inside. "Anybody home?" he asked with a smirk.

He moved through the maze and stopped when he honed in on whoever was lurking in here. He stared at a particularly disorganized pile until he realized he was looking at a creature who was practically made of its own junk. It was hunched over and pressed into the mess like it was trying to hide.

"What're you doing?" He asked. He wasn't getting any hostility, just a faint trace of disappointment. "You looking to jump out and go boo?"

"I was..." said a rusty, mechanical voice. A pair of organic yellow eyes blinked open and narrowed hawkishly. "Most folks do not spot me so easily."

Yondu frowned. "I ain't most folks, and that's a good way to get yourself dead _real_ quick."

The strange creature chuckled and moved forward, clicking and whirring as she went. She was female, he realized, and not entirely metal. There was grey flesh that could be seen under all the homemade cybernetics. She was either a survivor of something horrendous, or a way out of hand mod junkie. "You ruined my fun," she said as she pushed past her customer. "So, what do you want?"

Yondu followed her and pulled Quill's device from his pocket. "This thing ain't working and I've been told you're the lady who can fix it."

It was swiped from his hand before he could react and spidery, needle sharp fingers turned it over and over. The junker passed an arm across a table, clearing it of years worth of garbage, and started dismantling the device.

Alarmed, Yondu said, "Hey! Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

"This little trinket is in fine condition."

"Then why're you taking it apart?!" He moved his jacket aside to reveal his arrow and said, "I am _this_ close to giving you an extra air hole, jackass!"

The junker wasn't phased in the least. Several tools emerged from her arms as she continued to work. "Please be calm. It is also primitive and fragile so I am making it a bit more durable." She pulled the batteries out. "These can not last for more then a couple of hours." She tossed them aside. "Where did you find this?"

She wasn't lying, and she wasn't afraid in the slightest, so Yondu backed down. The Centaurian knew when to pick his fights, and he had the feeling this wasn't one of those times. "Picked it up on Terra."

"Never heard of the place." The junker had the whole thing in pieces spread across the table before she started spraying some with a reinforced coating and swapping others out entirely. Even the head wires were given this treatment.

"It's a bit outa the way."

"That so..." She started putting the device back together and it quickly looked like it was supposed to again. "And what were you doing there?"

Yondu stiffened and snarled. "I ain't here to play question games."

"I am only trying to make conversation," she said lightly. She snapped the last few pieces in place and held out the finished device. "Here. That will be 200 Units, please."

Yondu took it, careful of those sharp fingers. He tried not to look too eager as he put the head piece over his ears and pressed some of the buttons, but... nothing. His frown deepened. "It still isn't working," he said, unimpressed. "It's supposed to make noise of some sort."

"It is perfectly functional. The problem is there is a part missing." The junker took it back and pressed a different button, causing it to pop open. "A removable cartridge is supposed to go in here."

Yondu snatched it back and closed it. "So it really wasn't broken?"

"No."

With a growl, he said, "I asked you to _fix_ it, not mod it. All you had to do was tell me that in the first place!"

The junker had the gall to chuckle. "If I did that, I would not have made any money."

Yondu gritted his teeth. Now he really wanted to put his arrow through this woman's head.

But she continued. "It has a new energy cell that will last you a lifetime, and you would have to work quite hard to break it now. 200 Units is a good price."

Yondu sighed. The she right. That sum was nothing to him, not even worth bartering over. The only problem he had was that the job was something he didn't ask for, and really, he had to give this woman credit for playing him like that. If he didn't already have a full crew, he might have asked her to join the Ravagers. _"Fine..."_ he said, sounding more put out then he was. He took two slates of metal from his pocket, little more then spare change, and handed them over.

The junker took them in both hands like they were precious artifacts. "Oh, _excellent!_ Thank you very much."

Yondu snorted and left. He couldn't be happier to get out of the oppressive shop.

As he walked back to the Zatoan, he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye; a brief glimpse dark armour and staring white eyes. His crest lit up and he turned, but there was nothing there.

He rolled his shoulders in an effort to ease his unnerve. He really needed to get out of here.

* * *

Sadly returning to the Galleon didn't provide Yondu much relief. He kept checking behind himself for imagined followers as he made his way through the halls.

His first stop was his quarters, where he rummaged though the Terran's bag for anything that looked like it could fit into the device. He found nothing.

He'd have to ask Quill about it. He kind of wanted to avoid the kid at the moment, but his curiosity always one of his greatest strengths... and biggest weaknesses.

He brought some food with him so it didn't look like he was there because he wanted something.

When he walked into the room, he was hit with a wave of grief and sadness. Everything was grief with this kid, like someone had just died. Then he remembered the impression of the woman he'd gotten that first night and way the boy spoke of his mother on the Zatoan...

Quill was sitting pressed into the corner opposite his bed, his knees hugged to his chest. His eyes were dry when he looked up at Yondu, but the skin around them was red. He'd been crying.

When he saw the tray of food the blue alien was holding he got to his feet and approached slowly. He was so... _so_ hungry. He took the tray and as soon as Yondu let go of it he ran to his bed to eat with his back to the room. The food was still kind of gross, but he didn't care at this point.

He was halfway done when he noticed Yondu was still in the room, watching with his hands clasped in front of him. Swallowing, Peter took a risk and asked, "Can... can I have my Walkman back?"

Yondu tilted his head. _"Walk_ man?"

Turning to look the alien in the eyes, Peter said, "It's a cassette player. You put it on your head and it plays music."

Suddenly comprehending, Yondu reached into his jacket and pulled out the device. "You mean this thing? It doesn't got legs."

Peter held his breath and forced himself not to rush forward and try to take it. he didn't expect to ever see it again and he had to have it back. He was doing okay before, but now, after only one day without his Walkman he was falling apart. "Its just a name... _Please_ can I have it back? I can't hurt nobody with it, and I... I promise I won't try to run away again..."

Those pleading eyes were still on Yondu and he frowned. He could feel the kid's desperation, but really? Quill was willing to bargain his freedom for this thing? "Why does it mean that much to you?"

Peter swallowed. Could he really tell this guy... his kidnapper? Maybe Yondu would feel bad and give it to him if he did. "My Mom... she used to share with me all the music she loved when she was young. That's... that's all I got left."

So Yondo was right. The boy's mother was dead. It was sad, certainly, but everybody looses people and Yondu wasn't about to go soft over some sob story. Still, the 'no running away' deal intrigued him. Would Quill keep his word?

"It plays music?" Yondu asked. "When I tried it, it didn't do anything."

"That's because..." Peter stopped. He shouldn't give away everything.

Yondu smirked. The kid was learning. "Tell you what," he said. "You show me how this _Walk man_ works, and swear you won't run again or cause any trouble. I'll let you keep it."

Peter was silent as he came to his decision. The situation didn't look so scary anymore, and even if he never saw Earth or his family again, as long as he had his Mom's music, he'd be alright. He got up, went over to the alien with purpose, and held out his hand. "Okay."

Yondu stared at him. The kid had done this before, holding out his hand all weird like he wasn't trying to take anything or give anything. Mutual trust and respect, huh? The Centaurian grinned as his blue hand enveloped the small pink one and gave it a shake. Good thing Quill couldn't read him. There was nothing mutual about it.

He handed over the Walkman and Peter hugged it to his chest for a moment, battling tears.

Finally Yondu cleared his throat.

Peter dug his Awesome Mix Volume #1 from his pants pocket. He had put it there during his little 'adventure' partially for good luck, and partially to keep himself from being tempted to listen to it while he was trying to escape. It was lucky in the end, since Yondu took his bag. This was the one thing he couldn't replace.

He popped open the Walkman and slid in the cassette, then closed it and handed Yondu the headphones. "Put those over your ears."

Yondu quirked an eyebrow and, but did as he was told.

When Peter pressed play, whatever he expected to happen flew out the window as the alien made an impossible, inhuman sound halfway between a screech and a roar. His face was twisted in pain and he wrenched the blaring headphones from his head.

Yondu recovered quickly and yelled, "You trying to deafen me, boy!"

The kid was mortified. "I'm sorry!" he cried. "It musta got turned all the way up! I didn't know! _Honest!"_

Yondu wasn't listening as he moved away and massaged his ringing ears, but Peter followed him and kept talking. "I'm sorry. I'm real sorry. Are... are you okay?"

The Centaurian calmed down once he realized that Quill was sincerely concerned. He didn't lie when he said he hadn't meant to do that. "I'm _fine,"_ he said as he readjusted his jacket.

Peter sighed in relief and fiddled with the Walkman, rolling a piece under his thumb. "Here." He held the headphones out again, but Yondu backed away and glared at them suspiciously. "It's ok," he said. "I turned it way down so it won't hurt you this time."

Yondu exhaled from his nose and snatched up the wires. He wasn't going to look like a coward in front of a kid.

But before he could put them back over his ears, the ground shifted beneath him and he nearly lost his footing. The very walls of the ship made a low moan, but it stopped after a second.

"What was that?" asked Peter.

Yondu handed the headphones back and hailed the bridge. "Nav?"

"Something's firing on us, Captain," said the navigator. _"Oh shit!"_

"What?!"

The man's eyes were wide and frightened on the com-screen as he and the pilot frantically worked the controls of the Galleon. "One of the other ships just _exploded! _Hold on! I'm trying to get a visual."

The ship shook a second time. Peter, now terrified, stumbled over to Yondu and clung to his jacket. The Centaurian looked down at him for a moment, but didn't say anything and didn't push him off.

"I see it!" Yondu's eyes snapped up to the com where Nav had gone pale. "That's a... that's _Kree_ warship! Why is there a Kree warship _here?!"_

"Never mind that!" yelled the Captain. "Get out of its line of fire!"

He was nearly flung on his face as the ship screamed and thrashed around him. He could barely hear Nav yelling, "All systems are down! The station's gravity is pulling us in!" The line turned to static and cut out.

The ship was in free fall. Yondu could feel it. On instinct he wrapped his arms around Quill, went down on one knee, and braced himself against the wall. The impact hit hard and the lights flickered out.

In that moment, Yondu was sure this was how he was going to die; helplessly trapped in a crashing ship in a hail of darkness, chaos, and noise.

His last thought was at least he wasn't going out alone.


	8. Old Friends

Peter couldn't put together what happened. One second he was clinging to the old leather of Yondu's jacket while some guy yelled about explosions, and the next he could barely see and was half aware of the arms that were still loosely curled around him. He coughed and sat up, causing the arm that was resting across his shoulders to slide off.

He was shaken, but it didn't feel like he was hurt anywhere. He patted himself, looking for his Walkman. It was on him when the ship started pitching, but now he couldn't find it.

_"No! No, no, no..." _he muttered. If it flew out of his hands during that crash it might be broken, and he had _just_ gotten it back. He started feeling around in the dark.

The floor was tilted towards the end of the room he was in, so he started along that wall, figuring the Walkman would have slid down.

Suddenly a faint white light came on and pulsed along the edges of the floor, causing him to flinch. An emergency light of some sort? It wasn't much better, but at least he could make out the room. He stared around for a few seconds, then spotted his Walkman in the corner. He rushed over and scooped it up, checking it over for damage. Miraculously it was fine.

Now that his first priority was taken care of, Peter turned and looked at the dark lump lying next to the dresser. Yondu... he still wasn't moving.

Frightened of what he would find, Peter struggled to find the nerve to approach the alien. If Yondu was dead, he didn't know how he would feel or what he was going to do.

What if the Centaurian was only hurt, though? He might need a doctor.

Taking a deep breath, Peter walked over to the prone form to take a closer look.

The first thing he noticed was the blood on Yondu's forehead. It was trickling from a bruise that was split open above his left eyebrow; he must have hit his head pretty hard. Peter felt queasy looking at it. Why did it have to be so red and... _normal?_ Why couldn't it be blue like the alien's skin?

He couldn't see Yondu's chest moving, hear him breathing, find any sign of life. Peter's eyes started to well. All the other aliens were scary and wanted to eat him; at least this one was somewhat nice. He gave him food and showed him what Space looked like. He even gave the Walkman back. If he died, Peter would be all alone, and he'd probably end up as someone's dinner. Sniffling, he gripped the leather of Yondu's shoulder and gave him a feeble shake.

"Come on... wake up..."

Nothing.

Peter shook him harder. "Yondu, wake up! Please... _please_ be okay..."

"Stop doin' that..." came a slurred, raspy voice.

The sheer relief caused Peter to laugh softly, but it was soon replaced with more concern. Yondu was curling in on himself and hissing in pain, so he scooted closer, still gripping the alien's shoulder.

Yondu pressed the heel of his left hand against his bruised forehead as he rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up into a kneeling position. He had to use his arm to keep himself propped up.

The noises he was making...

Up till now he acted and sounded human despite his appearance, but now there was a rapid clicking noise coming from him that no human could ever reproduce.

Peter was scared and his grip tightened. "What's wrong? Are you dying?!"

He stifled a scream and fell back when Yondu looked at him. Those _eyes_... they were blank and flat like mirrors, and they were glowing red. It was one of the creepiest things Peter had ever seen.

Then Yondu's dazed gaze moved around the room and his eyes went back to normal.

Peter realized he'd seen that before. Cat's eyes did that at night... wolves and deer too. It had something to do with night vision.

There was a new sound in the room; a deep, wheezy grunting that corresponded with the shaking of Yondu's shoulders. For a second Peter thought he couldn't breath, but the alien had a grin on his face that bared all of his crooked teeth.

He was laughing.

Peter got to his feet and backed away a pace. "Um... you... you okay?"

Still chuckling, Yondu ran his hands over his face and sighed. "We're _alive,"_ he said as though he didn't believe it. He he gingerly touched his forehead and inspected the blood that came off on his fingers.

"You should see a doctor," Peter said tentatively. His stomach dropped out at the thought of more doctors and hospitals, but the Centaurian was really loopy.

Yondu wiped the blood off with his sleeve and made a slow, stiff effort to stand. He cracked his back and neck, and then carefully tested his left shoulder where he'd been slammed into the dresser. "Hot _damn_ I am gonna feel this tomorrow."

Ignoring Quill's concerned stare, he checked the com on his arm. "Shit..." he wanted to call Nav or someone to find out what state the Galleon was in, but he was getting about a dozen calls at once and he wasn't good enough with the damn thing to pick and choose which ones to answer.

"Awe screw it." He hung up on them all and tried the bridge. No answer.

There was a loud boom that reverberated through the ship and made him duck reflexively. The metal was still groaning, he could hear pops and crackles from the inner workings, and he was starting to smell that dangerous combination of smoke and ozone. With growing alarm he turned to Quill. The kid didn't look hurt, but he asked, "You okay to move?"

"I'm fine."

Oh good... he wouldn't admit it, but his back was killing him. "Then stay close. We're leaving."

* * *

They might never have made it out of there if it wasn't for the emergency lights pulsing along the floor. At first Peter didn't know how Yondu was finding his way, what with the dark, the smoke, and the half tilted halls, but the alien had him by the hand and was leading him steadily forward. Eventually he realized the lights were all pulsing in a certain direction. Every time they came to an intersection, the lights moved one way, but not the other, and Yondu always went that way. He was following them!

They were coughing and hacking by the time they could see the dull orange daylight of Tau Bootis. Peter was ready to dash outside and breath air again, but his guide held him back.

Yondu crouched down and got a good look at the pandemonium outside. There were a couple of ships that had crashed into the station, causing wild plasma fires. It looked like the Galleon had landed on one of the rockier parts, though. Luck.

Other ships were sailing by and getting swallowed up into the nearby gas giant. Sakaaran skiffs were flying about like wasps, swarming Ravagers who'd taken to the air and the few Nova Cops who had shown up for the party.

There was a ground battle going as well. The handful of Ravagers who'd been on the Galleon were outside, shooting at the advancing Kree and Sakaarans from behind bits of wreckage. Yondu contemplated using his arrow from here, but the enemies were too far. It might fall out of range.

He looked down at the drop; a good 30 feet. There was a chain ladder dangling from the open hatch, but even as he contemplated trying to climb down, a couple of Necro-Blasts pinged off the hull around it.

Yeah... no way in _Hell._

He'd have to jump.

He could feel Quill clinging to his side again, staring at all of this in uncomprehending terror. Yondu pulled him him closer and put his arms around his shoulders. "Hold on tight."

"Huh?"

Yondu didn't give him a chance to register what was happening before backing up a couple of paces and leaping out the hatch at a run.

The boy didn't scream, but he did try his darndest to choke the Centaurian on the way down.

Yondu landed hard on his feet and started running. He didn't have time to think. There was blaster fire going off all around him! He had to get under cover.

Still holding the kid, he dove for the nearest bit of wreckage poking out of the sand and slid in next to one of his men. The young Ravager jerked around and almost shot him in the face, and Yondu glared up at the wide eyed, startled kid.

A second later the Ravager was sprawled on the ground, dead; Necro-Blast to the head.

Yondu flinched when Quill started scream right next to his sensitive ears. This kid really _was_ trying to deafen him... also strangle him.

He pried the boy off him and clapped a hand over that shrieking mouth. It was enough to startle Quill out of shock, and when Yondu put a finger to his lips to indicate silence, the boy obediently fell quiet.

He removed his hand, sat back against the wreckage, and moved his jacket out of the way of his arrow. He whistled a short, curt tone and the thin weapon was in the air.

Yondu fully opened his senses, his crest glowing at it's full brilliance; streaking with veins of light that followed the grooves his grandmother had carved a lifetime ago. He didn't need to peak out of cover, or even move. He could feel every living thing on the battlefield; the kid lit up like a star next to him, the five Ravagers that were left, fourteen Sacaarans, three Kree, sand lizards, insects, grass... he could feel the energy flowing though them all, heart beats, vital points.

His men thought his crest controlled his arrow. They were wrong.

It allowed him to _aim._

He whistled high and long and his arrow was off, blazing with radiation released by the sound. It was through the first Sakaaran, and with a change of tone it moved on to the next one. He used the same note over and over, then a sharp up-tone and a trill. He could sense their agony. He could feel their last moments of horror and confusion, and then nothing...

Yondu was numb to the sensation. The few times people learned of his abilities, they were usually mortified that he was "forced" to feel death countless times over. They never understood his indifference. His species were hunters... predators; they evolved these senses for more then just the "we are all connected" bullshit. He was built to _kill_.

There was only one Kree left. She had managed to dodge his arrow three times already, and now stood in the middle of her dead companions, her stance wide, shoulders relaxed, battle axe held in a loose grip in on hand, the other hand extended in front of her.

So she thought she could catch it, did she?

Yondu smirked and commanded his weapon to circle her, point directed menacingly at her head.

_"Stay here," _he whispered to Quill.

He stood and stepped out from cover, walking over to the Kree with a cocky grace his aching muscles really didn't feel. He was pleased when his five remaining Ravagers fell into step behind him. Trelzar and Nav were amongst them. That was good.

His pilot appeared to be missing, though. Not so good.

"You ain't supposed to be here, little lady," he said amiably as he approached. He stopped a few feet from her and tilted his head. "I'd like to know what the hell your commander's thinking and I'd _really_ like some compensation for the damage to my Galleon. Now, I'm pretty sure _you'd_ like to live." He rubbed his hands together. "I think between the two of us, we can work something out."

Luminous purple eyes flashed at him in hatred. "Go ahead and _try_ to kill me, you _savage!"_

Feigning hurt, Yondu put his hands on his chest. "Savage? _Me?_ Hey now... I ain't the one's been fighting the same damn war for a _thousand_ years."

"At least I am not traitorous scum!" she snarled in retaliation.

Yondu cocked an eyebrow. "Uh oh... have we hooked up or something?" He looked her up and down. She was certainly attractive under all that armour; rich blue skin, a powerful build, long black hair woven into cords, and those eyes... "Though I'm pretty sure I woulda remembered..."

Her rage boiled over and she raised her axe with a bellow.

The Ravagers levelled their guns on her, but all it took was a small, short trill from Yondu to force her to stop. The arrow was at her throat.

On reflex, she grabbed it with her free hand.

Yondu watched impassively as the skin of her palm started to sizzle and blacken and she shook from the effort of will it took to hold on.

"You ain't the first to get cute, girl," he said coldly. "If it can burn through your armour, it can burn through your hand."

Finally she let go and hissed as she flexed her smoking appendage. She lowered it to her side like nothing happened.

Yondu backed his arrow off and smiled. "Now that _that's_ over, I'd like you to humour me. How did I betray you?"

Calmly she said, "Not _me_. My Captain. He told us of you when he saw your ship,_ Yondu Udonta."_ She spat his name like it was a horrible epithet.

"Awe Hell..." Yondu's widened as ice spread through his veins. He looked up and searched the skies for the Kree Warship, finding it a little right of the sun.

"What's wrong, Captain?" asked Trelzar.

He exhaled sharply. "I know that ship."

While his back was turned, the Kree took her chance to smack the arrow away with her axe and run for the cover of the city. She easily dodged the fire from the Ravagers and they gave chase.

Yondu grabbed Trelzar by the his collar before could join them. The Captain held out his arm and pressed a couple of buttons on his com, displaying a contact number. "Can you hack this like you did to me?"

Trelzar eyed the display with a frown. "That's a Kree line."

"I know," Yondu said flatly. "Can you _hack_ it?"

"Aye..." The mechanic actually grabbed Yondu's arm to use his com.

The Captain stiffened and stared at him in disbelief, but he didn't notice as he got to work. It only took him a minute and he stood back. "There."

The screen came up and a Kree with a stern face and white hair appeared. "What is this?" He demanded.

"You shot down my _ship_ you son of a bitch!"

The Kree's blue eyes hardened. "Yondu Udonta."

"Mar-Vell," Yondu said in a mocking tone. "How you been old buddy?!"


	9. What Was Lost

**I'm nowhere near finished, but I wanted to take the time to say thanks to everyone for all the great reviews and positivity. I am having a tone of fun writing this story.**

* * *

The Kree got sarcasm. There was no reason Mar-Vell couldn't hear it in Yondu's voice, and yet the effect the question had on him... it might as well have been sincere.

Yondu felt some of his own fury fade as he watched the Kree Captain's face grow lined and weary. He really hated coms sometimes; he couldn't read people over them, but his old friend was like an open book. Something was seriously wrong.

"I have no words for an enemy of the Kree," Mar-Vell said gravely. "You are to be arrested and brought before the Accusers."

Yondu's eyes narrowed. "This about me joining the Ravagers?" he growled. "They're a neutral faction, Vell. You know I want no part in your war-"

"Then explain to me why you and your... _Ravagers_ attacked one of the most important research facilities in the Empire!" Mar-Vell had a dangerous edge to his voice, but his eyes held genuine curiosity. "I vouched for you, and you cost my people _years_ worth of scientific advancement."

Next to Yondu, Trelzar looked down and fidgeted for a moment before taking several steps back. He was one of the few members of the crew who were around back then, and he knew what his Captain could get like when folks brought up that raid.

Only Yondu stayed eerily calm. "Didn't think they'd ever admit that place exists," he said, his voice sharp and cold. "Your brass tell you _why_ I was there? They tell you what we found? What they were _doing?"_

He grinned wickedly when he saw the doubt on Mar-Vell's face. "Didn't think so." He paused, and dropped the facade. "Why are you here, Vell? This station don't mean shit to anybody and you sure as hell didn't invade Xandarian space for my sorry hide."

"Enough of this," said the Kree. He looked off screen and back. "Surrender yourself Yondu," he pleaded. "Perhaps something can be done."

Yondu hunched his shoulders, glared, and growled, "You know that ain't happening."

Mar-Vell closed his eyes, and when they opened again he was an emotionless Kree warlord. "Then this is the last time we speak."

The line ended.

A minute passed and the only sounds were of the distant battle. Trelzar looked up to find his Captain standing there, still as a stone. He worked up the nerve and said, "Captain?"

Yondu's head snapped up and he turned to the mechanic. His red eyes were dull and distant.

"What do we do now?"

He took a deep breath and he was back in the present. Using the emergency line, he hailed his crew. As long as they had their coms on them, they'd hear his orders. "Boys, this is your Captain speaking. I'm sure by now you've all noticed the Kree Warship that so graciously shot down our Galleon. Well it turns out they think they're gonna bury us along with this rock!" He laughed in a mocking tone he didn't feel. "Tell you what. We are gonna teach those tar-faced morons why _nobody_ crosses the Ravagers!" He dropped his voice into a low, icy tone. "I want that warship taken down, and I want every Kree and Sakaaran on this station deader then a Badoon on a Monday. Make me proud, boys."

As he watched, he saw a change in the flight patterns of the Ravager ships; instead of flying around randomly, picking off skiffs, they moved into a loose formation and headed for the warship.

The Ravagers were a surprisingly old organization, and their ships were custom designed over generations. Between that and the fact that they regularily dropped fortunes on upgrades and tuning, they had one of the fastest and most versatile fleets in the Galaxy.

They could certainly give one smaller classed Kree warship a run for its money.

Satisfied, Yondu turned to Trelzar and said, "See if you can't cut one of the Big Guns out of the hold. Call some of the boys if you need to."

He himself planned on keeping Quill safe and riding this out. The Nova Corps were bound to have called in the cavalry, and once the rest of the Xandarian military showed up the battle would be over. One more old friend would be dead...

Yondu might not like dealing with the Corps very much, but there were only a couple of his men who had arrest warrants, and with helping protect the station, he could probably negotiate them out of trouble.

He whistled the arrow back and caught it, the Yaka was warm in his hand. He went to grab Quill, but when he stepped around the wreckage... he froze.

The Terran was gone.

He didn't bother calling out. His skin was crawling, his heart was pounding, and his crest was itching like crazy. The boy didn't run.

Something took him.

Yondu's grip tightened on his arrow as he closed his eyes, bared his teeth, and concentrated everything he had on his crest. He didn't care if Trelzar saw the radiating glow, he needed to find that kid.

If this was a forest, he could have felt every living thing for miles, but on the mostly lifeless rock, his range was pitiful. All he got was the faintest trace of Quill's brilliance from somewhere in the direction of the city. He took off running, his focus narrowing until Yondu the hard assed, bobble loving Captain of the Ravagers was non-existent.

He was Yondu the Hunter, and there was something he needed to kill.

When he reached the first low, rickety buildings, a group of Sakaarans who were running by started shooting at him. He let go of his arrow and whistled it through their heads.

The streets were a chaotic symphony of Ravagers, random outlaws, locals, and enemy soldiers, all shooting and screaming and dying. He didn't have time for this...

His crest was meant to be used in short bursts, and the concentration and energy required to keep himself going like this was quickly going to exhaust him. He had to find the kid quickly, before he collapsed.

Yondu was able to avoid most of the battle by skirting down alleys, jumping onto ledges, balancing deft along roofs and walls, and always moving in the same direction.

There was too much around him, though. So much rage, and fear, and death that it became a hollow din against his skull. He tuned it all out... ignored the danger.

Which is why he didn't notice the Necro-Cannon being aimed at him by a Sakaaran sniper.

The blast exploded next to him, and the next thing he knew, Yondu was on the ground, his body stunned and his ears ringing. His back was hot. There was a plasma-like residue eating through his jacket, so he shrugged it off and and tossed it aside.

A very small amount of the superheated matter made it through around his right shoulder and side. It burned through his shirt and started into his skin, but he didn't matter

He didn't feel it.

The hunter's deadly eyes zeroed in on the Sakaaran. The sniper took aim, readied another shot, but with a long, high note, he never got a chance.

Yondu fought back to his feet and called his arrow back. He was getting close.

That was good.

He wasn't going to last much longer.

He barely remembered the rest of the journey, but he finally he skidded around a corner and into a dark, covered alley. After the battlefield that was the city, it was secluded and eerily quiet.

Quill was down there with the thing he kept sensing. He could tell it was there, but it was odd... he couldn't get a bead on it at all. Either it was almost completely robotic, or it was a life-form evolved so far beyond him that he couldn't connect with it.

He slowed down and eased his senses. There was only the three of them now. His breath was coming in wheezing gasps and his vision was starting to blur, but he forced himself on.

Almost there...

Had to protect Quill...

The alley opened into a small courtyard surrounded by apartments. The people who lived there had tried to make it nice, and the resulting garden was a surreal thing to come upon on a dusty space station. There was a little, willowy tree, a fountain, two benches... the battle above could barely be seen in the space between the buildings. On one of the benches lay an unconscious Peter Quill.

Yondu stopped. Even in his sorry state, he knew better then to charge into an open space. He mustered up a flash of his crest and located the thing lurking in the shadows. He gave a trill and his arrow struck true... only there was no scream, no thud of a body, no flash of pain across his battered senses.

A figure stepped into the garden.

It was a man; tall, built like an Asguardian, clad in polished armour that was blacker then the space between the stars. Golden cloth cascaded from the shoulders in two strips... like wings. The man's face was barely visible, but he had pale skin, and a pair of luminous eyes shining from beneath the shadow of his helm.

He held up the Yaka arrow, his hand unburned by its radiation.

Yondu felt sick. He was mentally exhausted, his anxiety was out of his control, and he was finally feeling the agony spreading across his back. He shuddered and tried whistling again... and again.

The arrow glowed, but it had no effect against the stranger's armour. The man took it in both hands and slowly applied pressure until it started to bend.

Yondu's heart stopped and he put his hands up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don't... don't break that. Please... I'll stop..."

The stranger let up and tilted his head. In a disarmingly familiar voice, he said, "So there are still things you care about, Yondu Udonta?"

Yondu stared. It was starting to get hard to breath, but he forced himself to focus. "We supposed to know each other?"

"Not at this point, my friend." The man smiled. "But we will."

"You a time traveller?" Struggling to process the strange statement, Yondu sighed and leaned his uninjured shoulder against the cool alley wall. "I don't get involved with that shit."

"I know, and I'm not... at least not in that way."

"Then what the hell are you?" Yondu snapped, frustrated.

The man regarded the arrow in his hand as he said, "I am The One Who knows."

Yondu's eyes widened in recognition and his breath hitched. _"You?!"_ He pushed his weight back onto his feet and stumbled towards the man. "You... you..."

He smiled kindly. "I'm pleased you remember our correspondence." He took Yondu's arm in his free hand and gently, but firmly lead him to the empty bench. Once Yondu was seated, he handed back the arrow and said, "Did that facility have what you were looking for?"

Yondu clutched his weapon to his chest. "You _bastard!"_ he spat. "I found 'em all right. My people... the Kree were..." He shivered. "There was only one left, barely alive after what they done to her. She'd been there almost her whole _life! _Couldn't remember her own name! She..."

Yondu's voice broke and his eyes shone with tears that refused to fall as he stared at the bit of metal in his trembling hands. "She died in my arms. The last of my own I've seen, and I don't even know her name..."

A hand settled on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

It was quickly shrugged off.

"You're sorry?!" Yondu bared his teeth and his eyes narrowed to pin pricks. "You're supposed to be 'Mr Know-It-All' ain't ya? You couldn't have told me your little tip _before_ I went traipsing across the Galaxy?! I coulda saved them! I wouldn't be-"

"No," the man cut in. "It could only happen as it happened. I _am_ sorry."

Yondu glared and slowly shook his head, but he didn't have the strength left to stay furious and there wouldn't be a point with someone like this. He sagged, bowed his head, pressed his arrow against his brow. "What do you want?" he asked miserably.

"I want only to ease your burden, my friend." There was that hand again, resting on his shoulder.

Yondu chuckled darkly. "You gonna kill me?"

"Is that what you want?"

_"No," _he seethed. Why the hell would someone think he _wanted_ to die? he'd be dead, and then what?

The infernal man was smiling again as he backed away and turned to Quill.

"You keep away from him!" Yondu tried to stand, but didn't quite manage it. His back was on fire now and he was shaking and sweating. He couldn't use his arrow on this guy, couldn't fight, couldn't do anything...

"Star-Lord only sleeps, and I will not harm him."

Taking a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, Yondu said, "How did you..."

"I am the One Who Knows," the stranger answered simply. His expression grew sombre "I came here to tell you that when you bring the boy to his father, what he is now... will die" His heavy gaze returned to the Centaurion. "But you already knew that."

Yondu's chest tightened. Yeah... he knew; had known from the first night, when he examined the boy. "So what? I'm supposed to care about one little Terran? There's six billion more just like him back on that dirt pile."

"I know what you stand to gain, but do you really think you can sacrifice a child for something that may or may not exist?"

Yondu tightened his grip on his arrow like he was trying to strangle it. _"You've got no idea what I'm capable of,"_ he rasped out in a quiet, dangerous tone.

But the man only smiled that infuriatingly proud smile. "On the contrary. I have watched you walk this path countless times, and you have _never_ gone through with it." He let that linger for a moment before saying, "You're not a monster, Yondu, no matter how hard you try."

Yondu was numb. If his back wasn't lancing with white-hot pain, he might have thought he was dead. He didn't know what the hell this nut job was talking about, but it felt the truth; a truth that meant he'd never see another of his kind again. He couldn't accept that.

It must have shown on his face, because his new friend sighed. "Of course, in the end the choice is yours." The stranger looked up to the narrow strip of sky. "The battle is ending, and Star-Lord will soon awaken. You should see a doctor."

The strips of golden cloth on his back lifted and took shape, glittering with light. They were solar sails... wing for flying through the depths of space. He lifted off at an impossible speed and was gone.

Yondu was left alone with his thoughts, only he couldn't think. The pain, the exhaustion, the _everything;_ it was all too much. He wiped a hand across his sweat covered face and holstered his arrow. The struggle to his feet made him gasp and hiss and curse, but he managed it.

He shuffled across the garden and shook the boy.

"Come on Quill... get your ass up."


	10. Aftermath

Peter was in a nice warm place where there was no crashing spaceships, and people dying, and confusing blue alien kidnappers. He was in his bed at home, it was all a strange, elaborate dream, and now his Mom was shaking him awake 'cause it was time to go to school.

"...ill... Quill... up... wake up, boy! Damn it!"

That... was definitely not his Mom. Above him a haggard, stubbly blue face and burning red eyes swam into view. Yondu...

"Oh..." he said. Right. His Mom was dead and he was abducted by aliens. Funny how he kept forgetting that.

He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He didn't remember nodding off.

He was still in the same quiet garden. The strange knight had flown him here and after he was assured this didn't count as running away, they had sat and talked for awhile.

It looked like Yondu managed to find him.

"Where's Starhawk?" asked Peter.

It took the alien a second longer then it should have to come up with, "What..?"

"The big guy with the cool armour."

"The know it all?" Yondu's eye twitched. "Starhawk? Seriously? Why're you calling him that?"

Peter caught on that Yondu wasn't happy. In fact he really didn't look good. Carefully, the boy said, "I told him that I wanna be Star-Lord and he said he likes it when people call him Starhawk."

"You told him..." Yondu stumbled back a step and started giggling. "'The One Who Knows' my ass! Stupid mentalist tricks... "

"Um..." Peter took in how shaky and sweaty and pale the blue alien was; pale with dark shadows around his eyes, a bit like Peter's Mom looked towards the end. Now panicking, he stood up and asked, "Are you sick?!"

Yondu's eyes shone as he gave the boy a blank stare. "No." He tried the com on his wrist, but nothing happened and the face was cracked. He must have hit it on something when he got caught in that explosion. He'd have to do this the hard way. He turned around and started to walk out of the courtyard. "Come on."

With him turned, Peter could see the horrible blackened skin and blood that covered half his back. The boy stayed in his seat as he fought with a bout of nausea. How was Yondu even standing?!

The Centaurian stopped at the alley entrance and leaned on the wall. "What's the hold up?" he barked.

With a hand over his mouth, Peter got up and followed. He got himself under control and said, "You're hurt real bad..."

"I noticed," Yondu bit out. Once the boy caught up, he started walking again. Steady... one foot in front of the other...

"You need a doctor," he heard Quill say from somewhere far off.

"Had to get you first..." he rasped.

"I'm sorry! I didn't... Starhawk... flew me... garden..."

He could barely understand Quill's babbling, so he tuned it out and focused on moving forward and staying on his feet. The armoured idiot and the boy were both right when they said he needed a doctor.

He was suddenly afraid he was going blind, until he realized there was sweat and the blood from the cut on his brow falling into his eyes. He wiped at it with his left hand; couldn't even move his right side anymore.

It didn't help much.

He stopped. He could barely see, his senses were jumbled, he had no energy left to use his crest, and no way to call for help. He refused to panic, but he wasn't getting anywhere like this, and he needed to get somewhere now... preferably someplace with drugs.

When he dropped his left hand, something small and cool curled into it and gave it a tug.

"Quill?"

"Yeah..." The boy's voice was close, but Yondu couldn't even sense him there. "I'm... I'm gonna get you to a doctor, ok?"

There was that tightness in Yondu's chest again. Quill was trying to help him without being threatened, bribed, or even asked. It kinda pissed him off; like the kid knew what he had planned and was trying to guilt him into changing his mind.

"You even know the way?" he asked harshly.

The boy hesitated. "No but... I'll figure it out. We gotta try, right?"

Yondu swallowed. He didn't know how Quill thought he was going to navigate the chaotic space station, but it had to be better then standing here and waiting to black out. Yondu nodded and said, "Best you start walking, then."

Peter gently pulled the alien along, careful not to go too fast. He'd made a promise not to run, and he couldn't just sit there and watch Yondu stumble around in clear agony. His stomach churned again just thinking about the horrible burns. That blue hand had an almost painful grip on him and he could feel Yondu shaking. He could also hear the laboured breathing and smell something faint like the scent that lingers around a patio after a barbecue.

This space station was worse then the ship. It seemed to be made entirely of twisting alleys and catwalks.

Every now and then people ran by, but they never stopped long enough for Peter to ask directions. Finally he heard whispering up ahead.

_"They've got the Captain. What do we do?"_

_"We die here, or we find a way off this stinking rock."_

_"We just leave him?"_

_"That was the whole point."_

Peter stopped and Yondu almost tripped over him. Pushing the alien back a bit, snuck up and he peaked around the corner.

There were three of them; one of the big blue warriors in the armour, and two of the bug people that looked like they were dressed in wasp nests. These were the same kind of folks Yondu had killed earlier.

There was a screech of pain behind him, and Peter nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned around and found that when he pushed Yondu, it had accidentally caused him to brush his burned shoulder against the alley. The alien's eyes were closed as he shuddered and struggled to keep his breathing even. His legs gave out and he sank down to the ground, leaving an awful trail of blood and char on the wall.

_"What was that?" _said one of the bug men.

"Uh-oh..." They were coming over. Peter went over to Yondu and pulled on the front of his shirt. "Get up! Get up!"

But the Centaurian wasn't budging. Peter couldn't tell if he was passed out or not because he was still shaking and panting, but he wasn't responding.

The bad aliens came around the corner and stopped. The warrior was at front and Peter saw his glowing amber eyes narrow at the scene he found. He chuckled and to his bug friends, he said, "The traitor, Yondu has been delivered to us. We shall return with his head as our trophy."

Yep... definitely bad guys.

Yondu mumbled something, but Peter couldn't understand a word of it. The warrior was advancing, raising the nasty, blood encrusted hammer he had in his right hand. Suddenly this wasn't a bunch of scary monster-aliens trying to kill Peter's kidnapper; this was a couple of bullies smushing a helpless frog with with a stick. He reacted now the same way he had then... by doing the stupidest thing possible.

He stood and put himself between them and Yondu. "Stop!" He commanded. Amazingly, they obeyed him and froze under his heated glare. "I won't let you hurt him!"

They stared for a couple more seconds, and then burst out laughing. Peter's cheeks turned red and his ears heated up, but he didn't say anything and he didn't budge.

He also didn't notice Yondu's eyes crack open.

The blue warrior pointed his hammer at Peter and said, "You better run, little Xandarian, or I might take revenge for all the Kree children your father has killed.

Peter didn't understand most of that, so all he said was, "I ain't running. I promised."

The man sneered and slowly, almost reluctantly raised his weapon. "Very well."

It was starting to sink in to Peter that he was about to die, but he couldn't get his limbs to move. All he could do was shut his eyes tight and pray this guy wasn't really 'child killing evil.'

There was a sharp whistle and Peter flinched as he felt the hammer hit the ground in front of him. There was a couple more whistles and a few more thuds, and when Peter opened his eyes the warrior and the bug men were dead. His breath stuck in his chest.

They were dead.

They were alive a second ago and now they were dead...

"You_ idiot..." _There was movement behind him, but he still couldn't move.

Strange coloured blood pooled under the bodies; green from the bugs and blue from the warrior.

Something grabbed his shoulder and forced him to look away. Yondu was back on his feet. "You got head problems or something?"

"You killed them," Peter said in a shaking voice.

Yondu grimaced. "Would you rather I'd 'a let that Kree squish you dead?"

Eyes like saucers, the boy shook his head rapidly.

Yondu snorted and nudged him to get moving.

Looking up and seeing the blurry image of Quill standing there, waiting for the Kree to cudgel him... it scared the shit out of Yondu, and if he was in the mood to reflect on it, he'd admit it wasn't just the thought of loosing his bargaining chip. The boy didn't deserve to die like that. He didn't deserve to die at all, but especially not like that.

At least the fresh wave of adrenaline allowed Yondu to push past the pain and get up. He glanced at the bodies as they passed them and sighed. "You really need to learn to pick your battles, boy."

Quill said nothing to that and took his hand again. The boy was shaking almost as bad as he was; probably never seen death up close and personal before... he couldn't tell though. He had no idea what the boy was feeling, and it was a cold, horrible thought that his senses might be damaged beyond repair. Most of the Galaxy got by without them, but he'd be crippled.

Quill must have picked up on his distress, because the boy said, "It's okay. I can see a big street up ahead. There's gotta be someone who can help.

Yondu was hesitant to agree. Even if they found one of his Ravagers, if it was the wrong one, they might try to off him and take his place as Captain. "Keep your eyes sharp, boy," he said. "Don't trust anyone."

He heard Quill gulp before pulling him forward.

Yondu struggled to keep his breathing even as the world opened up and filled with frantic people rushing through the aftermath of the battle. He could smell them, hear them, even feel them thundering their feet and moving the air around, but he could barely see, his crest felt like it was on fire, and his back... the pain had him close to blacking out.

Peter tugged on the panicking Centaurian, but only succeeded in getting dragged over to a wall near the alley they had come out of. Yondu braced his good side against it and seemed content to stay there. People were starting to stop and stare, and Peter remembered what the alien had said. He wanted to ask them for help, but none of them looked happy. Some of them were even muttering things like,_ "Blue skin... is he Kree? That kid's a hostage?"_

_"Um... Yondu?"_ Peter whispered._ "I think we need to go." _But Yondu didn't move and didn't loosen his grip.

Softly he rasped. _"I'm done. Ain't getting any farther."_

Peter thought of what to say to that, but before he could come up with anything, a pair of men in blue uniforms parted the crowd and demanded to know what was going on. They were wearing body armour that had three yellow lights forming a 'V' on their chests and helmets that hid away their eyes. Everything about them, from their clothes to their walk screamed 'Police Officer.'

One of them, the shorter, stockier of the two stopped and regarded the situation. "You okay there, son?"

The other Space Cop, who was tall and had a bright yellow chin visible under his helmet, was backing people off and talking lowly about 'hostage situations' into his arm. Peter didn't miss the fact that both Cops had their hands on their guns. This was like a movie; a crazy, messed up, _confusing_ movie.

Mustering up the little bit he knew about the situation and every ounce of guile he had, Peter said, "I'm alright, sir, but my Uncle got in a fight with some of them Kree guys and they hurt him real bad." He put on his best 'scared kid' face for good measure.

"Your _uncle?!"_

The yellow chinned Cop said, "Did you I.D. them yet, Kril?" He had succeeded in getting most of the crowd to disperse.

"On it." The shorter guy, Kril, pulled a metal stick from one of his pockets and shook it out. The pieces opened up and snapped into place, forming a rectangular frame that filled with a see-through screen. He held this up and Peter could see a picture of Yondu appear on it, next to a bunch of alien writing.

Kril looked from the screen to Yondu and back and forth several times before saying, "Um... sir? This guy isn't Kree."

Yondu chose that moment to regain his senses. "Of course I ain't Kree," he snapped angrily at the man. "See all this blood coming outa me? It's _red_, genius."

But the Cop ignored him. "Denarian Lan? You _really_ need to see this."

Peter didn't know what the big deal was, but he hoped the Space Cops would figure it out soon. Yondu was starting to lean on him, and the alien was heavy! They were both looking at the screen now.

The yellow chinned Cop, Denarian Lan, looked up and said, "Well, well. Yondu Udonta, the famous Captain of the Ravagers. My name is Denarian Gabriel Lan. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." He approached carefully, noting how the Centaurian tensed and stared around. It was clear he was having difficulty seeing, and he was putting most of his weight on the wall and the child. Making a call, the Denarian put his hands up. "Easy now. Your nephew said you're injured. I only want to have a look."

Yondu was still tense, but he didn't attack as the Denarian moved around behind him. There was no reason to fight the Nova Corps, he reminded himself. They had nothing on him.

Didn't stop him from wishing his senses weren't fritzed so he could get an idea what kind of attitude these two were going to take.

The Denarian sucked in a breath. "He needs Med-Evac, _now!"_

Oh good. They were going to be helpful. Yondu finally let go of his death grip on consciousness and collapsed to the ground.

* * *

For awhile, Yondu's world alternated between an excruciating blur and blissful darkness. He kind of wished he could stick with the latter, but his species was built tough; it took a lot to knock him out in the first place, and his instincts kept jolting him awake when people touched tim. It felt like everyone on Tau Bootis 5 was taking their turn man handling him.

He was vaguely aware of being carried here and there, and then he was laid face down on something metal and he blacked out again. The next time he woke it was to the sick feeling of fingers pressing into his burned flesh. He was pretty sure he socked someone in the teeth before being pinned down.

He fought in a blind panic for a few seconds until his strength gave out.

Someone leaned in close to him and said, "Mr Udanta?"

"Yondu..." he said. He hated how weak his voice sounded.

"Yondu," his captor repeated. He recognized that voice. It was that Denarian... Lan? He was talking again. "There's a doctor here who has some questions for you. Now, you're not going to hit him again, are you?"

Yondu's eyes rolled back, but he managed to process the question and form an answer. "Naw... s'long as he drugs me up good 'for he goes pokin' me..."

"That's exactly the problem," said a muffled voice from a good distance to his left. "I have almost no data on your species. Giving you anything without knowing your metabolism could kill you."

Yondu moaned and strained against the hands that were holding him down. He was fully awake again. He really didn't want to be. "You ain't got nothin' that'll poison me," he ground out. "An' whatever ya give me... need double what you'd give a Xandarian."

He heard bustling movement and then something pressed into his neck.

_"Oh sweet mercy of Anthos..." _He nearly cried from relief as the pain was swept away and his muscles relaxed for the first time in hours.

"That seems to have done the trick," said the Denarian. He sounded amused...

The doctor was clattering around the room. "You can leave now."

"Do you have any idea who this is?"

"A criminal of some sort, I wager?"

Denarian Lan chuckled. "Not according to his record, but trust me, if he wakes up swinging again you're going be glad I stayed."

Yondu couldn't feel anything anymore, so it was disconcerting when he heard the hum of a laser blade very close by. Were they cutting him open? He tried to move his head to see, but couldn't.

He was paralyzed, but he was too euphoric to work himself into a panic. "What'r you doin'?" he slurred.

There was a pause in the doctor's activities. "You're still _awake?!_ Are you in pain?"

"No," he answered simply. "What'r you doin'?"

"I have to cut your shirt off," came the hesitant answer.

"Oh..." Damn, and he liked this shirt too. He closed his eyes and relaxed, hoping to fall asleep and wake up when this was all over.

From far away, he could still hear the soldier and the doctor talking.

_"Looks like he's out."_

_"Good. This is hardly going to be comfortable. Still... the residue from the Necro-Blast should have eaten him clean through."_

_"Do you think he might have a resistance?"_

_"It's possible. Centaurians are supposed to be extinct. Almost nothing is known about them."_

_"That would be huge. I don't have to tell you how many of my friends I've lost to those infernal weapons..."_

A niggling fear pulled Yondu back to reality. If these idiots got the wrong idea, he might end up in a Xandarian lab. He had a suspicion that the Xandarians weren't much kinder to their test subjects then the Kree, and even if they were all sunshine and rainbows, the idea of being locked away in some cage so a bunch of scientists could do what they want with him... that was his idea of hell.

Faintly he said, "Jacket took the brunt of it... Acanti leather." It wasn't even a lie.

The Denarian whistled appreciatively. "That must have cost you a fortune."

"He really shouldn't be awake right now." The doctor stopped messing with his clothes and moved away.

While the doctor was doing whatever it was he was doing, Yondu cracked an eye and looked up at the Nova Denarian, who was standing uncomfortably close. He could make out a blurry yellow head.

"Hey..." said Yondu. "Where's Quill?"

The Nova smiled down at him. "Your Nephew? He's in the waiting area with Corpsman Kril. You don't have to worry about him."

Yondu didn't get a chance to respond. There was another pressure on his neck; the damn doctor had injected him again.

There was no fighting it this time. He slid comfortably into a deep sleep.


	11. The Dream

**I thought it's time for a disclaimer; I know who Peter's father is supposed to be, but I felt he wouldn't work with what the movie set up. Now the director, James Gunn has flat out said movie Peter's Dad isn't who it is in the comics, so that's not who I'm going with either.**

* * *

"So... Yondu Udonta is really your Uncle?" asked Corpsman Kril.

"Yeah..." Peter was sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair in a large tent. There were dozens of other people in there, strange alien's mostly, all waiting for friends and family to be treated in the makeshift hospital the Nova Corps (as it turned out the Space Police were called) had set up.

The walls of the tent were made of a grey, almost metallic material that had a honeycomb pattern if you looked hard enough. It kept the heat and the dust out.

Someone was sobbing. Other people were talking softly, and someone coughed. Peter didn't like this at all. He was on a space station, inside a super advanced, air conditioned tent, surrounded by aliens, and it still managed to feel exactly like a hospital waiting room back home.

He remembered he had his Walkman clipped to his belt and was about to put it on, when the Corpsman who was babysitting him spoke again.

"Gotta say, I can't really see a resemblance."

Peter carefully considered his response and said, "He married my aunt." He had a lot of experience making stuff up thanks to all the time he spent playing make believe with his Mom. Thinking about it caused a pang sadness in his chest that physically hurt.

"You okay, son?" the Corpsman asked gently. He took his helmet off and revealed he had normal tan skin, large, brown, almost frog-like eyes, bumpy ridges along the lines of his face, and longish red hair that went all over the place.

Peter sniffled and wiped at his eyes. "Uh-huh. I just... I'm scared."

Kril chewed his lip. "You got any other family? You know... just in case."

Eyes wide, Peter stared at him. That was right. Peter had his Grandpa and Grandma, and Aunts and Uncles on Earth. He could tell this guy the truth and they'd probably take him home. He could go back to his Grandpa and pretend this never happened.

He looked down at his Walkman, and turned it over in his hands. His heart was hammering like he was scared. Did he want to go home? His Mom would still be dead. His Grandma would still cry all the time, and his Grandpa would still be sad and distant. He didn't have much else to go back to. No friends. And he had seen the stars; he was on a Space Station talking to an alien Cop. He didn't know what Yondu wanted him for, and the battle today had been scary as hell, but so many things were amazing and cool and he wanted to see more _so bad!_

Besides... he promised not to run.

Making his decision, Peter shook his head.

The Corpsman sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that. Was it the war?"

Peter almost rolled his eyes at this guys nosiness, but he kept up the sad hat routine and said, "No. My Mom got sick... and my Aunt died in an accident..." That wasn't a total lie. His Aunt Jenny did get in a bad car accident about a year ago. She didn't die though.

"And Udonta actually took you in?"

Peter huffed. "I don't wanna talk about this anymore." He put his headphones on and pressed play, drowning out any more questions the Cop might have. He just hoped the batteries would hold out.

He hugged his knees to his chest and closed his eyes, letting his music wash over him and carry him far away from the waiting tent.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that, but eventually something touched his shoulder and drew him back to reality.

The bright yellow face and dark eyes of Denarian Lan were smiling down at him, waiting for Peter to take his headphones off, Lan said, "Your Uncle pulled through just fine. Now, he'll need to rest for a couple days, so I thought you might like to stay with him in his tent instead of out here?"

"Yes please!" Spending a couple of days in the waiting tent with Corpsman Kril sounded awful, and from the relief on the red-head's face, Kril agreed.

Lan laughed at the both of them. "Come with me then."

* * *

The forest floor was soft with ferns and moss; a good place to lay and take in the night. The air was heavy with the odour of leaves and bracken and the smoke from a nearby fire. He could faintly hear his people singing and dancing, but he was far enough away that he could also hear the trees in the wind, and the movements of animals going about their nightly rituals.

He felt it all: plants, trees, animals, people. A delicate pulse of life and death.

Looking up, he hoped to catch a glimpse of the twin moons through the canopy, only there were no moons. The familiar stars were gone; replaced by the unfathomable expanse of the Universe. All the countless galaxies and nebulae could bee seen, all moving far too quickly.

Dread settled upon him and he stood up. He had to get back... had to get home to his people...

He started walking towards the fire, moving quickly and skillfully through the forest. When the trees opened up, he found not the camp of his tribe, but an Asguardian hunting party. These living Gods laughed and drank and ate from a rich feast that had been set out on a great table.

Yondu looked around himself at the trees. They were still the trees of his home; not some alien forest. He stepped out, ready to demand what the outsiders were doing here, but the Asguardians greeted him like old friends and drew him in.

There were other people here too. People from his past... all of them dead.

Some he knew to be alive were there as well. Mar-Vell was laughing and talking to one of the Asguardian princes, the blond one with the hammer. There were others too, folks he didn't know flitting about just beyond his sight.

Something curled into his hand and he looked down to find Quill there, smiling up at him. There was light emanating from within him and around him; enough light and energy to fill an entire Universe. The boy squeezed his hand and pointed up at the chaotically shifting stars.

He said. "We were always making up stories where we explored the Universe together. I was the hero, and now it's for real."

Yondu tried to rip his hand away, but the boy wouldn't let go, and wouldn't budge. It was like he weighed a tonne, his grip tethering the Centaurian in place. He was still smiling and he said, "I ain't running. I promised."

"Let go of me right now, boy," Yondu growled back. "You got no idea what I'm gonna do to you-"

"What are you going to do?"

His head whipped around to look behind him, and there was the self proclaimed 'One Who Knows,' the idiot Starhawk. His dark armour didn't just reflect the light of the endless stars, it contained them.

Suddenly the sky was empty. Starhawk had taken all the light, and all that was left was the dancing fire and the glow from within Peter. Everyone had stopped in their revelry. They were all watching, their eyes like daggers.

Starhawk said, "Do you really think you can sacrifice a child for something that may or may not exist?"

And then they were all gone. Even Quill.

He was alone.

* * *

It took a moment for Yondu to figure out that the reason everything was so dark was because his eyes were closed._ "Stupid assed dream..."_ he muttered.

Slowly he opened his eyes and took a look at his surroundings. He was laying on his back on a bed in a small, dark room made of environment resistant cloth; a medical tent? He was clean and dressed in pale yellow Xandarian style hospital robes. He refused to think about who had undressed him.

There was a smooth metal cuff decorated with small gems secured to his left arm. He tried to get it off and felt a twinge of pain for his trouble. Then he remembered... those gems were capsules of pressurized liquid, and the cuff was releasing it slowly into his bloodstream. He relaxed. As much as he didn't like the thing, his condition would probably get a hell of a lot worse if he took it off.

He held his hands up and realized they were shaking. His whole body was trembling and he was coated in sweat. He closed his hands into fists and let them drop onto the blankets.

Was it from the dream?

No. He was starting to become aware of the dull, persistent ache that had settled into his every muscle and bone, and he felt too cold and too hot at the same time. Whatever they had given him for the pain was obviously not strong enough.

It grew in intensity as his heart rate and breathing quickened. He needed to get the pressure off his back, so he gritted his teeth and forced himself to sit up.

The result was bad, and he just barely managed not to scream. Did they even do anything to heal him?

He opened the robe and carefully slid the fabric off his right shoulder so he could check the damage. There wasn't much to see. It was covered in a bright orange gel that clashed horribly with with his blue skin. He knew what it was immediately. He'd had this stuff on him before. It would keep his wounds clean and sterile, promote healing and tissue growth, and after a week or so it would fall off and leave nothing but scars.

Miracles of modern medicine.

The burns were right over the latticed aftermath of an ion blast he had narrowly survived years ago. He was literally going to have scars on top of his scars.

Hissing, he pulled the fabric back in place and started checking himself over to make sure the Nova medic hadn't harvested anything.

"Yondu?"

He tensed. His senses were dull from the drugs, and he didn't realize he wasn't alone. It was only Quill, though. Now that he was siting up, he could see that the boy had been curled on a bench at the end of his bed.

Quill propped himself up, rubbed at his eyes, and took his ear coverings off, hanging them around his neck. "You're not 'sposed to be up yet."

Crooked teeth bared, Yondu growled, "You ordering me around?"

"No." Quill's eyes lingered on his bare torso before the boy looked away in favour of staring at a blank spot on the wall. "Sorry."

The submissive reaction calmed Yondu down. He was giving the poor boy one of his nastier looks, his temper significantly shortened by his pain. He schooled his features. He wasn't angry with the boy. In fact he was quite pleased with him.

Quill had saved Yondu a hell of a lot of trouble, and he knew it. How did the kid keep pulling this shit off?

The boy hadn't said anything to fill Yondu's silence. He was still looking away, clearly uncomfortable. Yondu sighed and closed up his robe. He knew what he looked like; life had chewed him up and spat him back out enough times and it didn't bother him, but evidently it disturbed the kid. The weird part was that he wasn't getting disgust or pity from the boy, just... discomfort.

At a loss for what to say, Yondu asked, "Have you seen my arrow around?"

"It's right here." Quill bent over and came up with the precious Yaka weapon folded into its holster.

Yondu was overwhelmed with relief. The pain and the fever and the shakes were still there, but he wouldn't be helpless while he recovered, and he hadn't lost the last piece of his home. "Bring it over."

Quill stood and moved around the bed to Yondu's left side. He held the weapon out with both hands and it took all of Yondu's will to take it gently instead of snatching it. He set it on his lap and kept his right hand on it. The kid was giving him a weird look and feeling things he couldn't quite put his finger on; sadness and familiarity mixed with a strange jumble of concern, contempt, and... something like kinship. It was unnerving.

More to distract himself, Yondu said, "So I'm your Uncle now, am I?" He wore a nasty smirk and sure to make it sound scathing. He wanted a rise out of the boy so he'd stop with the deep emotions.

And Quill didn't disappoint. He flared with anger as his face turned red and he scowled at Yondu's sheets. "What was I supposed to tell them?" he said hotly. "That you're my kidnapper? They wouldn't have helped you."

That wiped the smile off Yondu's face right quick. He wanted to yell '_Yes! That's exactly what you were supposed to tell them! You don't want to help me!' _The boy couldn't be for real. He had to be doing this deliberately to try and manipulate Yondu into sparing him.

_Sparing him..._

Yondu was going to get him killed. That was the deal; deliver the boy and Daddy Dearest would find the last Centaurian survivors (if there were any). Only the boy was half Terran and half whatever the hell his Daddy was, and the ancient dick-wad sure as hell wasn't interested in having a backwater mammal for a son. Split the two, and whatever the boy was right now would be as good as dead.

He didn't know it when he made the deal, but he figured it out almost as soon as he met the boy and he was still going through with the deal... wasn't he?

_Wasn't he?!_

"Yondu?"

He glanced up into the boy's big, green, concerned filled eyes and quickly looked away. His left hand fisted a death grip on the blankets that were pooled around his waist.

Ever observant, Quill asked, "You're hurting real bad?"

"I've had worse," Yondu bit out. "Just gotta push it down."

"Here..." The boy carefully took his head wires off his neck and held them out.

Yondu stared at the offering before scoffing. "I don't need my ears blasted off on top of everything else."

"It's okay." The boy had the gaul to smile. "I turned the volume way down, and you wanted to listen to it, right? Maybe... maybe it'll take your mind off... you know..."

He shouldn't. He was already getting in too deep, but it was as though he had fallen into a trance. He took the delicate wires, put them over his ears, and only flinched a little when the boy clicked the box part of the device. What washed over him was music... _real_ music with actual instruments and singing and melodies and harmonies; not the synthetic pounding and screeching the rest of the Galaxy claimed to enjoy.

It was simple and pointless compared to the Centaurian's songs, but nice in its own way. The lyrics were of some jackass who thought he was too good for his lady and tried to run off with a broad he never met... only to find out his lady _was_ the broad. Instead of clawing each other's eyes out, the two fell back in love.

Well wasn't that sweet...

The next song was just a different jackass insisting he wasn't in love with the person he was clearly obsessed with. Yondu was starting to see a theme; Terrans were idiots.

And yet he closed his eyes and lost the tension that was wracking his form. The pain was still there, but further off and easier to ignore. He let out a shaking breath. The boy had said this was his mother's music; that she had shared it with him, and Yondu couldn't begrudge him wanting to hold onto that. If he had a recording like this of his people's music, he would never stop listening to it.

Yondu slowly realized he couldn't sense anything in the tent with him. He opened his eyes and found he was alone.

Did Quill use his distracted state to run off? No...

There was no way the boy would leave his Walk Man behind if he was going to do that, and image of him standing up to a Kree warrior flitted through Yondu's mind. _'I ain't running. I promised...'_

That boy was as naive and sentimental as his music, and he was going to have to smarten up right quick if he was going to survive.

And with that thought, Yondu realized he _wanted_ Quill to survive. The only question left was: did he want the boy to live more then he wanted to find his people? He was afraid of the answer, but at the same time, it simplified the issue down to a 'yes or no' question. He'd have to think about it.

Quill chose that moment to return at the heels of a blond haired, pink skinned Krylorian woman dressed in a Nova-Medic uniform. She stopped when she noticed Yondu sitting up and staring like a dazed animal, but she only paused a moment before smiling kindly. "Peter here tells me you're in a bit of pain?"

"A 'bit' ain't the word I'd use," Yondu said in an irritable growl. He pulled the head wires off so he could hear her better. She was giving off nothing but concern, so he eased up and said, "If you got something a whole lot stronger then what I'm already on, I'd be real appreciative."

The doctor came the rest of the way into the tent and took in his dishevelled form; he definitely looked like he was hurting. "Let's see what I can do. May I?" She pointed to the cuff on Yondu's arm.

"Help yourself," he said with a smirk and a wink. He tried and failed to stop the shaking as he held his arm out to her.

She touched the cuff and a little display appeared; apparently it held his medical information as well as his drugs. She perused the scrawl of medical mumbo-jumbo, her smile turned taught, and she suddenly filled with a pity that made Yondu's skin crawl. "I am _so_ sorry, it looks like you're resistant to this strain of opioids. We should have had someone monitoring you, but with everything-"

"That's _wonderful..."_ Yondu cut in. "What about the shit the other Doc gave me?"

She Bit her lip and looked over his information again. "Yeah... no. That stuff's not for prolonged use."

Yondu frowned. He had half a mind to tell her to contact the Ravager's doctor; that sawbones was putting him back together for years and had taken the time to figure out what worked and what didn't. The problem was Yondu didn't know who or how many of his crew survived the battle. If it was the wrong lot in the majority, he'd be dead.

The doctor was babbling in her jargon and about all he understood was, "There's this drug we use on Ergons," and, "It'll throw you for a loop."

He smiled wanly. "Honey, you can throw me for as many loops as you like, so long as I ain't feeling it."

She rolled her eyes despite herself as she gave his arm back. "You should lie down."

"I'd rather not," Yondu said playfully. "Back's a little sore, you know?"

She managed a small laugh and gently patted his uninjured shoulder. "Can you hang in there for a few minutes? I've gotta go get authorization."

"For you? Anything."

That earned him a snort as she left.

Now alone with Quill, Yondu sighed. The boy had watched all that in an awkward silence. Yondu gave him a long, hard stare, held the Walk Man out to him, and said about the only thing he could think of...

"Thanks."

* * *

Kraglin's stomach dropped out as he took the leather jacket from Ross. He examined the massive hole eaten into it and ran his fingers along the chemically blackened edges. "Where'd you find it?"

"In an alley," said Ross. "There was a dead Sakaaran nearby; Yondu's work."

Kraglin nodded. "Good job. Your brother and the others'r still looking?"

"Yes."

"Good. Keep at it, and remember; we don't want no trouble."

Ross didn't mince words and simply walked out of the shadow of the downed Galleon and into the city.

There was a throaty scoff and Kraglin turned to find Horuz watching him.

"Don't start," Kraglin warned.

The older man spat and said, "You're waisting all our man power on a dead man."

"What'd I _just_ say?" He had an icy edge to his voice. "And the Captain ain't dead till I see his corpse."

Horuz pointed at the ruined jacket. "Get you're head outa your ass, boy! That's a Necro-Blast that caused that and not even Yondu can survive one 'a those!"

"I know you want the stop spot." Kraglin jutted his chin out in challenge. "And I don't know why he ain't killed you yet, but you ain't in charge till you go through me."

His eyes widened as the grizzled madman stormed towards him, but he stood his ground. Horuz grabbed the collar of his Ravager jumper and pulled him close to the filthy, bearded face. "You ain't got a _clue!_ I've known Yondu since you were sucking on your mama's tit, and you know what I say? I say _you're_ the one he should be killing!"

He shoved Kraglin hard, but the First Mate managed to stay on his feet and keep his back straight.

But Horuz wasn't done. He circled the younger man like an animal and said, "You play your dumb colony boy role all real-like, but there is something _wrong_ with you! I always said so."

Kraglin's nostrils flared. He drew his pulsar gun and pointed it at Horuz's head. The old man met his cold gaze with a defiant smirk.

"Gonna do it, boy?" Horuz nodded to something beyond Kraglin's shoulder. "That Nova-creep's hanging 'round again. Thought you said we didn't want no trouble?"

Kraglin kept him in his peripheral as he took a careful peek, and sure enough, there was a yellow skinned Aakon Denarian watching with his arms crossed.

Kraglin lowered his weapon and said, "Go check on Trelgar."

Horuz spat at his feet and stormed off.

Plotting the old man's death, Kraglin took a moment to get himself under control before turning and approaching the Nova.

The Denarian was the first to speak. "Mr Obfonteri?"

Kraglin stopped and looked him up and down. "Yeah?"

"My name is Gabriel Lan."

He curled his lip and said, "I know who you are. You're the captain of that exploration ship that came to our rescue." He made sure to inject plenty of sarcasm into his words. "How can I help you officer?"

Lan smiled and held out a hand. "I'd really like to have a look at that jacket."

Head cocked and eyebrow raised, Kraglin said, "Seriously?" He was expecting threats and demands to behave, not a friendly request for Yondu's jacket.

"Yes."

He shrugged and handed it over.

"Very nice." Lan let it drape over his arm and ran a hand over it. "What kind of leather is this?"

"Acanti," Kraglin answered with a smirk. He had a feeling where this was going.

"And how does one obtain the leather of such a rare, and _protected_ species?"

Yep. That's were this was going.

Kraglin bobbed on the balls of his feet and sucked at his feet before saying, "Don't know 'bout anyone else, but Yondu got that given to him."

Lan's brow rose. "Can I ask from who?"

"The Acanti." Kraglin grinned. "Even got papers if you want to see 'em."

The Denarian smiled back. "No, that's okay."

"Anything else? I'm kinda busy." The Ravager pointed a thumb at the downed ship.

"I was just checking something." Lan handed the jacket back and turned to leave, but first he paused and said, "By the way. If you're looking for someone, you should the try the temporary medical centre we have set up."

Kraglin stared at him as he walked away and then looked down at Yondu's jacket in his hand.

It couldn't be... could it?


	12. As A Nebula

By the time he filled out his fifth form, Kraglin was ready to punch somebody, probably the droning Xandarian Corpsman who kept foisting page after page on the Pad he'd been handed. He had better things to do than dance to the tune of Nova bureaucracy.

Luckily the Corpsman finally took the Pad back, shuffled through it, sniffed, and said, "Alright Mr. Obfonteri. Follow me."

Kraglin's heart started to hammer as he was lead through the carefully organized rows of grey and blue tents. Yondu was alive, but Kraglin didn't know what state he'd be in. Would he even be fit to be Captain anymore?

They finally stopped at a tent that was the same as all the others. How his guide know this was the right one, Kraglin had no idea. The Corpsman gestured that he should go inside and then bustled off to do something more important. He hesitated, than brushed the flap aside and stepped into a tiny, air conditioned space that stank of antiseptic.

He froze.

Yondu was laying on his left side, dressed in ridiculous yellow robes and covered in a thin blanket. He had both arms and at least one leg, and aside from the shivering, and the grey tinge to his skin, there didn't look to be much wrong with him. Kraglin moved further into the room and almost laughed. The deadly Centaurian was curled around his arrow and holster, hugging it to his chest like a stuffed animal.

The strange red implant on his head flashed briefly, causing Kraglin to go cold with fear.

Did Yondu ever kill people in his sleep?

Apparently not.

Instead he opened his eyes and shifted to stare right at his First Mate. His pupils were dilated and the normally bright red was dull and off. He grinned dopily and said, "If you ain't really here you can just bugger off."

"Um... I'm really here?" Kraglin responded uncertainly.

"Oh good. Was wonderin' when you'd catch up."

The Xandarian wrung his hands and cautiously stepped closer until he was next to the bed. "Sorry it took so long. We weren't sure if you were dead or not."

"Oh..." Yondu's face scrunched up in confusion. "Am I not?"

Before Kraglin could answer, Yondu's hand whipped out and grabbed him by the arm. "When'd your face get so _orange?"_

He didn't know how to respond to that, so with growing concern he said, "Are you okay?"

Yondu blinked at him and grinned again. "Lot better 'an I was. These Nova jackasses are a lot 'a morons, but they got some _gooooood_ shit."

"You're _high?"_ He sighed._ "Great..."_

"I know, right?" Yondu still had a smile on his face as he closed his eyes and promptly started to snore.

Kraglin sighed again, sat on the edge of the bed, and put his head in his hands. There was so much to do, so much the Captain needed to take care of now that he was alive, but here he was high off his ass and barely able to move. Kraglin had seen the jacket. He knew Yondu should be dead, not laid up and loopy; the man needed to rest.

The Xandarian never took on this much before. He was just gaining his feet as First Mate and now he'd be dealing with the worst hit to the Ravagers in years, but he'd do it. He'd get done all the crap that needed doing before Yondu was up and at 'em again.

He owed the old Centaurian everything.

"Hey... Obfonteri..."

Kraglin turned and looked at his Captain. Yondu's face was eerily neutral, but there was some strange emotion in his eyes. "How bad is it?" he asked.

Kraglin's skin crawled. It wasn't the first time he got the notion that Yondu could read minds. "How bad is what?"

"Like you don't know," Yondu scoffed.

He took a deep, steadying breath. "The Galleon's down. Gonna take weeks... maybe _months_ to get it space worthy. Two-thirds of our men are dead. Most of our ships are wrecked. There's this Denarian lurking around. You're laid up... and we can't find the kid."

Yondu frowned at him like he was crazy. "Whadda you mean 'we can't find the kid?' He's right there."

He followed the pointing blue finger to the end of the bed, where the damned Terran was fast asleep, curled up as snug as a bug on a bench.

What was he doing there? Wasn't he trying to escape. Yondu had been here for more then a day and Kraglin was pretty sure if the brat vamoosed in that time, the Captain would have had no way of going after him.

"Why didn't he run?"

"Gave 'em his Walk Man thing," said Yondu. "Now he ain't running no more."

Kraglin rolled his eyes at what he assumed was drug addled nonsense, than he felt his stomach drop and he bit his lip. "How're we gonna deliver him on time? Do we send someone ahead? Trelzar maybe? Or Ross?"

He was mostly musing to himself, so he didn't expect Yondu's quiet answer.

"We _don't_ deliver him."

Kraglin turned to stare at his Captain in disbelief. "Skimp on a job? Your mind's gone funnier then I thought."

Only Yondu looked exhausted, and gaunt, and deadly serious. His eyes were wide, like he was staring down a ghost as he said, "We can't deliver him."

"The Ravagers are an institution-"

"His Daddy's gonna _kill_ him." He closed his eyes and struggled to stay awake, to organize his thoughts. "Kid's a halfbreed, and his jackass of a father only wants the not Terran half... shouldn't be telling you this..."

Kraglin felt like he'd been punched in the gut. The Ravagers attracted plenty of shits who'd have no qualms about murdering alien children, but he wasn't one of him. Yeah, this brat made a fool of him, but a kid is still a kid. "What do we do?"

"I'm keeping him," Yondu answered like it was the simplest thing in the world.

_"What?!"_

"I like him." He shrugged with his not mangled shoulder. "He's a good kid."

"Oh _hell!"_ Kraglin ran a hand over his weary face. "Please tell me you're gonna forget that when you're sober."

Yondu responded with a noise that was a cross between a giggle and a groan. He slumped down and stared at Kraglin for a couple of seconds before saying, "I ever tell you about the time I crashed an Asguardian hunting party?"

The rule of thumb was to humour him when he started up one of his stories, but Kraglin didn't have time for this. "Yeah," he said. "You did."

"Oh..." Yondu frowned and blinked warily. "What happened to Mar-Vell?"

Kraglin was standing, getting ready to leave, but he paused. "Who?"

"The Kree Captain. He dead?"

He had no idea why Yondu would care, but it wasn't his place to question it. He shrugged and said, "Last I heard, the Nova had him locked up."

Yondu sighed. He looked almost... relieved. "I'll be out 'a here by tomorrow."

The Xandarian opened his mouth to tell Yondu off, but bit his tongue. There was no way it was acceptable for him to give his Captain orders, no matter how much he thought the man needed to stay in bed. Instead he said, "What do you want me to do with the kid?"

"Leave him here. He ain't going nowhere."

Kraglin nodded. "I gotta make sure work's going smooth and keep the boys from causing trouble. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Bring you some clothes?"

There was that dopy grin again. "You're _good_... should make you First Mate. You wanna be First Mate?"

Struggling not to laugh, Kraglin said, "Sure thing, Captain."

He left a tracker in the tent so he'd be able to find his way back, and he strode back to the wreckage with purpose. It was Trelzar he wanted, and he found the engineer alone near the back of the galleon, staring sadly at the sorry state of his pride and joy.

The old cyborg focused his eye on Kraglin, but pretended he was paying attention to something else.

"Anymore survivors? The doc?" asked Kraglin.

Trelzar continued acting distracted as he said, "Afraid not." He dropped his voice to a discrete whisper. _"Did you find the Captain?"_

_"Yeah. He's high as a nebula, but he's in one piece. Says he'll be up by tomorrow."_

_"That's good to hear."_ Trelzar wiped his hands on a dirty oil rag and moved over to a pile of parts he was working on. _"Will you tell the others?"_

Kraglin stuffed his hands in his pockets. _"I'm thinking 'bout it. Would be good if they knew they still had to answer to him, but..."_

"Reluctant?"

He scuffed a foot on the ground and frowned at the little cloud of dust he kicked up._ "It's Horuz. A lot of his little fan club survived and I'm worried the Captain's chair might start looking mighty comfy."_

Trelzar's good eye widened and he straightened to give the First Mate a hard, long look. In a normal voice, he said, "Yondu has nothing to worry about from Horuz."

"You kidding me?" Kraglin's brow rose.

With a smile, the engineer said, "I know how it looks, but the Captain would have killed him long ago if he was a problem. Fortunately Horuz has no interest in responsibility and complete loyalty to the Ravagers... and to Yondu. He just doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut."

"Ah..." Dammit. Kraglin was hoping for an excuse to get rid of that oversized psychopath. Changing the subject he looked up at the ship. "How long do you think this'll take?"

"Haven't a clue," Trelzar answered heavily. "However long it takes to get the parts she needs, and... she won't be as pretty as she was."

"So long as she flies." He made his decision and left to break the good news to the crew.

* * *

As promised, Kraglin returned to the medical tents a couple of hours later with a bunch of clothes from Yondu's quarters tucked under his arm. He even included a spare com in the bundle. He wasn't sure if he picked well, but the Captain _could not _be seen by the crew wearing Nova-issue pyjamas.

He ducked into the tent and found Yondu in the same arrangement as before. He was glad to see the stubborn Centaurian was out cold, and he moved carefully and quietly to make sure it stayed that way.

"Hey!"

Kraglin nearly jumped out of his skin as the Terran stood up from the bench and yelled at him. He glared at the kid, who stared back, wide eyed as a startled bramel beast. _"Quiet,"_ he hissed.

The kid was smart enough to clamp his mouth shut and sit back down.

Kraglin dumped Yondu's clothes on the foot of the bed and left. He returned a few minutes later with a folding chair that he set up in a corner and took a seat in.

With everything taken care of as good as it could be, he would keep a vigil over the Captain. He still didn't trust a good chunk of the remaining crew not to follow him and attempt an assassination, not to mention the Nova Corps were a bunch of shifty, self serving bastards. If they decided taking out the Captain of the Ravagers was in their best interest, they'd do it in a heartbeat.

The Terran was staring at him. It was making the hairs on his neck stand on end.

He put on his best sneer and said, _"What?"_

The Terran jolted and looked away; a submissive gesture that calmed Kraglin down somewhat.

_"Wanted to say sorry,"_ whispered the boy._ "You know... for tripping you? I didn't get you in trouble did I?"_

Kraglin's eye twitched. _"Are you for real?"_

The boy answered with a shrug.

Kraglin sat back and regarded the ex-cargo with a cool frown. No, he didn't get in trouble. He supposed he better forgive the little brat, especially if Yondu wasn't going to change his mind about keeping him. Kraglin smirked and said, "Anything you gotta 'pologize for ain't worth doing."

The Terran gave him a confused, cockeyed look before sighing and plunking some funny wires on his head and turning away.

Neither of them said anything else for the rest of the night.


End file.
